


Smuggled Princess

by I_dont_write_fanfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Lieutenant Duckling, cs ff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_dont_write_fanfic/pseuds/I_dont_write_fanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: The Curse never happens, Emma grows up in fairytale land, as a teenager she rebels and runs away, hiding on a pirate ship to get away. Takes place after Liam died so Killian is a newly self-proclaimed pirate and ship captain Lieutenant Duckling-esque</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stowaway

She looked up at the tall masts of ships that cluttered the bay of the port she had reached since fleeing her family’s castle in the Enchanted Forest. There were dozens of vessels loading goods, bringing aboard passengers, and preparing to ship out. She scanned their flags to rule out the royal navy boats as options for sneaking onto. Her hair was pulled back, obscured by a filthy scarf she had found in the room above the tavern she was staying at. Emma wasn’t a fan of flirting her way onto a ship, let alone a pirate ship. Her aim was to keep a low profile until she got farther from her kingdom. Not herkingdom but her parents’ kingdom. Her eyes rolled at the thought. She knew if she were caught on a royal ship, they’d return her home immediately, so she opted for the less reputable option of sneaking onto a pirate ship.

 

She saw one of the ships eclectically painted in red and yellow, causing it to stand out from the others. Emma watched the crew bustle about their business of gathering goods for trade and checking inventory. She searched for an in and saw two deckhands arguing with the boatswain about where they should store the boxes they were bringing onto the boat. Gathering her things, she made her move, slipping into the hold of the ship as the crew were still arguing. Quickly, she searched for a place to hide, wondering how long of a journey the ship had planned. She settled herself between two groups of boxes, ducking below view of the deckhands still loading inventory.

* * *

 

“Captain!” a man yelled out, startling Emma awake to the dim-lit image of a small, round man standing over her. Everything came into focus and sprang into a crouched position, keeping her hand on the knife hidden in her boot. She and the man eyed each other warily until they heard footsteps of someone else ambling down to the hold.

A tall, thin man poked his head around the door before entering the room, sizing Emma up for a moment before speaking,

“Well, what do we have here? Tell me, Gary, since when did we get into the business of trading whores? Don’t get me wrong, I quite like the idea of keeping a lass around the ship to entertain the crew’s needs, but at least give her a decent place to sleep,” the raven-haired captain remarked on the situation, causing Emma to openly gasp at the thought of being a whore, let alone to an entire ship’s crew. At this, the captain turned and met her eye, standing imposingly over her, and obscuring what little light the hold had. Emma promptly rose to her feet to get eye-level will him,

“I am not a whore!” She practically spat in his face while he remained unflinchingly calm. He turned to dismiss Gary from the hold with a slight wave of his hand and locked onto her eyes once again. Fear and adrenaline were pumping through her veins, while she wondered if this was the best option of escaping the confines of her royal life, standing eye to eye with a pirate ship captain who didn’t seem all that much older than herself. How did that happen? Becoming a pirate captain at, what, 20 years old? What happened to him that got him here? Probably something similar that happened to her for all she knew. Why else do people rebel and run away from their life?

The captain looked her up and down, noting the rag that covered her blonde locks had come undone and was hanging down the back of her neck, and the state of the clothing she wore.

“Yes, I suppose I’ve never seen a whore wear breeches before,” he responded, rubbing a knuckle across his chin contemplatively.

“Can you stop saying the word whore, for god’s sake!” she demanded, realizing she was about to pull royal rank on him. Only princesses can demand such things and rarely would they been conversing with a pirate of all people. She looked down at her boots, immediately wanting to take back what she just said, but the pirate raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“Come,” he grabbed her arm as she stumbled over the boxes she was hiding behind, “to my quarters for questioning. No point in trying to run from here as we are surrounded by the sea. Unless you wish to drown, that is, then by all means jump,” He added, walking her through the lower decks to the front of the ship.

Emma had a grasp on her pack and tried to keep her head down to avoid stares from the crew they were passing by in the halls. They reached the stateroom and the captain shut the door behind them, locking the door with a definitive ‘plunk’ of the deadbolt.

“So, you wanted it to be a quiet murder,” Emma asked quietly under her breath. He heard her with his back turned and smirked, swinging his desk chair around to face her. Emma stood in her spot right at the entrance of the room, taking in her surroundings, which were vastly different from the hold. The room was stacked with books, lining all the walls, with some open on his desk along with maps spread across it. A single mattress was nestled against the wall amongst the piles of books and a mess of sheets balled up on top. There weren’t any other chairs in the room, so she settled on standing there uncomfortably.

“Well I’d like to know your name before I kill you, unless whore still works for you,” he explained as he sunk into his desk chair, stretching his legs out and opening his flask. Emma clenched her fist at the sound of that word again.

“Emma…,” she started, before realizing she didn’t have a last name to give him aside from hers. She glanced around the room for something to quickly come up with, until she spotted a crystal swan on his desk, “swan. Emma Swan. And are you just captain?”

“Jones, Captain Killian Jones, your servant,” he smirked giving a small bow in his seat.


	2. The Missus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian comes up with a plan to explain who Emma is, which, as it turns out, was not the best plan.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _“Emma…,” she started, before realizing she didn’t have a last name to give him aside from_ hers _. She glanced around the room for something to quickly come up with, until she spotted a crystal swan on his desk, “swan. Emma Swan. And are you just captain?”_

_“Jones, Captain Killian Jones, your servant,” he smirked giving a small bow in his seat. “So...Swan, what brings you aboard my ship? You know this isn’t a passenger vessel,” he inquired, studying her face for any clues it might give him as to who this girl was._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite her purposefully filthy clothing, he could tell she was a well-manicured young woman. He knew she was an impostor but of what kind he wasn’t sure. She had an air about her that commanded recognition, for people to turn at look at her when she entered a room. If he wasn’t careful he was sure she could use that quality to overrule him. He chuckled to himself at the thought and took another swig of rum, waiting to hear what she had to say about herself. 

“I know I just--” she started, “I needed an escape.” Killian nearly guffawed at this. As if a pirate ship were a worthy escape for anyone. An escape...more like last resort. Was this her last resort? He glanced up from his flask, searching her eyes for the look of someone who was as lost as he had been. But the look of a lost loved one sits differently on one’s face, she hadn’t lost someone like that. 

“You’re running away from something, someone?” he suggested, seeing emotions cross her face in anguish. He had to stop himself from caring for this lost girl and remember his responsibilities to his men. Before she could reply, he continued,

“This is no place for someone like you. My ship isn’t here for stowaways.”

He didn’t mean to be cruel but he couldn’t let the emotions of another person get to him. They had a job to do and he’ll be damned if he let a woman get in the way of that, even if he did feel an inexplicable kinship with her. Emma looked gobsmacked at his remark. They both knew this made no difference to the fact that she was trapped on this ship for however long they were at sea. She opened her mouth to protest but couldn’t seem to find the right wording or the right direction to take the conversation. 

“So you do mean to kill me. Now that you know my name--”

“Well I know the name you gave me, even though we both know that’s a lie,” Killian interjected, looking up to meet her eye, letting her know he won’t take her bullshit if she’s going to be on his ship. While he was new in his position of both captain and pirate, he was learning ways of letting people know of his rank. After all, pirate don’t have their rank on their sleeves like the royal navy does. He glanced in the direction of his wardrobe, where his navy uniform had been stuffed into the back of, behind his newly acquired pirate garb. 

He had been to a tavern at their last port, where many criminals of his kind frequented between journeys. Not purely evil men, but seamen who didn’t go about their lives serving a corrupt king. They, too, had to move on from the navy uniform look, mostly of which consisted of leather or linen. He hadn’t adapted to the purely leather look, nor could he afford it, so at the moment he opted for a black linen shirt, almost entirely unbuttoned, and new black leather pants. He couldn’t be bothered to fasten every single one of those tiny buttons, especially while he was trying to break in these unbelievably tight pants. He had half a mind to unzip his pants before he remembered he was in the presence of a ‘lady’. He kept a hand on his belt buckle, willing his pants to loosen, and took another sip of rum. 

“Will someone be looking for you? At the next port, will people be comin’ aboard asking questions after you?” he asked, trying to determine her importance in this world. The last thing he needed were guards inspecting his ship, especially a ship that used to belong to the royal navy. He saw the answer on her face and opened his mouth to protest, but Emma interrupted,

“They would never think I came this far. There are other places they’ll look first. Please, you have to believe me!”

He saw the loneliness in her eyes, the look of someone wanting to start their life anew. He knew that look. Hell, he _owned_ that look just a few months ago, if not still. Where would he be if his crew hadn’t allowed him to become a man his lieutenant self wouldn’t have recognized now. Well, his lieutenant self also didn’t know of the corrupting ruling over them, asking them to do worse things for the navy than he had done in his few months as a pirate. Only truly terrible tragedies cast that look in one’s eye and he wasn’t one to just turn his back on someone who needed help. 

“Aye, I’ll believe you, _for now_ ,” he warned, “but you’ll have to earn your share, and keep your mouth _shut_.”

What on earth was he going to do with her? She looked about 16, so she could possibly pass as his wife, more likely a sister if they in any way resembled one another, which they didn’t. There’s no way she could sleep in the crew’s quarters, amongst the hammock beds filled with men who would throw themselves at any woman they saw on shore. But a woman who slept in a hammock beside them? They’d go wild. If she passed as his wife, then they’d leave her alone, but she’d have to stay in _his_ quarters. He glanced up from his flask to give her a once-over, trying to figure out if her sleeping in his room might drive _him_ wild. 

He rubbed a knuckle along his lower lip for a moment before making up his mind. Maybe she’ll laugh at him, at his idea. He would laugh if he heard it too, for it was a ridiculous plan: trying to convince his crew he had a wife hidden away who also _snuck_ onto his ship to see him? Arranged marriage? Married her before he became a pirate? For her dowry, perhaps?

He ran the explanations over in his head to determine the most plausible of the lot before standing up and taking her hand. 

\------------------------------------------------------------

He led her into the mess hall, where the crew had tucked in for dinner. Men were milling about with their plates of food, fighting over the grog rations, and conversing boisterously. None of them noticed the captain enter the mess, hand-in-hand, with Emma. 

“Alright, lads?” Killian shouted out to the room of men. Gary, the man who had found Emma in the hold, noticed them and looked up. He tapped the guys around him to notify them of the captain’s presence and they began to settle down.

“Alrigh’ Cap, who’s your lady friend?” asked someone amid the tables of men. 

“An’ can we have a go after yer finished with ‘er?” added someone else, causing the room to break out in laughter and further jeering in Emma’s direction. Emma moved slightly behind Killian and gripped his hand harder. She wasn’t expecting to feel such comfort from holding a stranger’s hand, but this felt different. His hand was warm, not sweaty or clammy, but a comforting warmth that ran from his hand to hers, up her arm and throughout her whole body. She felt safe holding it. 

“She’s my _wife_ , you bloody barbarians!” Killian bellowed into the crowd of rude gestures pointed at them, and silence abruptly fell across the room. 

“Oh, Cap, why’d you sneak ‘er onto the ship like?” Gary asked, boldly doubting his captain’s story. Emma looked down at her boots, waiting for Killian to come up with an answer. He hadn’t exactly told her what he was planning to say aside from the wife bit. She glanced up at him, trying to encourage him to say something. Why else would he take them in here to announce such a thing, if he didn’t have an explanation for her presence? Everyone was waiting as the silence felt thicker in the room, palpable. Killian threw a sideways glance at Emma for help.

“It was a surprise!” Emma blurted out, still looking at Killian, not bearing the thought of looking into that crowd of men again. “He-- he didn’t know, er, didn’t want to let me come along…” Emma continued, eyes locked with Killian’s who began to smile encouragingly, “he thought, uh, I would get hurt, but we’ve spent so much time apart…that I decided to just...sneak on?” Emma did her best to finish that sentence with conviction and Killian nodded with her, agreeing on their story, and squeezing her hand lightly. Warmth spread through her again in reassuring comfort. 

“You know, some women just...can’t help themselves!” Killian added, as Emma rolled her eyes and the men laughed, chiming in with the jokes. 

“Lucky bastard, Cap, you did well with this one!” Gary added, looking sheepishly at Emma, trying to be apologetic for how he treated her in the hold earlier. 

“Aye,” Killian agreed, turning to Emma and smiling, “aye, that I am.”

“Well what are you two doin’ standing here and not doin’ something else in your bunk, mate?” Someone yelled at them and Emma blushed, looking at her shoes again, releasing Killian’s hand for a brief moment before putting her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. His body was rigid at first, but slowly relaxed and gave into the curve of her arm around his back. He moved his arm likewise to grasp her waist and squeeze it, pulling her closer to him. They looked at each other, a flush of red spreading across their cheeks, before turning to exit the mess hall. 

“Good niiiiiight, Mr. and Mrs. Jones,” someone sang at them before one of the men slapped Emma on the ass on her way out of the room. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“And all of you used to be in the Royal Navy? Under King George?” Emma asked, swinging her legs back and forth mindlessly, reaching for Killian’s flask again. He pulled his hand back out of reach and took another swig. 

“Aye, most of us were,” he replied, keeping his flask more than an arm’s-length away, “you’re going to fall off the desk, lass, slow down,” he added, pushing her knees to sit her back further on his desk. 

“This isn’t much of a honeymoon,” she complained, nudging him with her foot, sitting back on the desk and crossing her arms like a toddler about to throw a fit. He saw how young she was in that moment and wondered if this was a good idea. They didn’t have many other options, but this still wasn’t a good one. So many ways it could go wrong. He shook his head.

“You’re the wife of a pirate, you can’t be expecting much, love,” he retorted, emphasizing the word pirate in a self-deprecating fashion. She dropped her arms and met his eyes. 

“What made you become a pirate?” she wondered out loud. 

“What made you sneak onto a pirate’s ship?” he countered, looking up from his rum for a real answer. It had been a long day and he wanted to know who or what he was hiding this girl from. He knew he’d have to face the people she was running from one day and he just needed to know what he was up against. She was avoiding his eyes. She got up off the desk to walk around the room.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” 

“Swan,” he demanded an answer from her no matter how many times she meant to change the subject.

“Jones,” she pivoted around to face him, trying to be serious in her tipsy state, but it came out in a mocking manner. He couldn’t tell which tone she intended. He stood up, slightly annoyed by her playful mood. She was, after all, risking him and his crew’s life by staying on the ship, even under such a rouse as acting as his wife. He opened his wardrobe roughly, digging in its clutter for the bedroll. A glimpse of his white uniform stuffed in the back only made him angrier. It hadn’t even been a full day on his ship and things were already not going as planned. This was not the best example to set as new captain to his crew, let alone with a ‘surprise’ wife. He scoffed at both thoughts and the uniform in the back of the closet and ripped out the bedroll, throwing it behind him. 

“You can sleep on the floor,” he yelled into the wardrobe, needing to calm down before turning around. Emma twirled around to pick up the bed roll and frowned. She looked up to protest but only saw his arse while he remained facing the wardrobe. Her frown disappeared momentarily in appreciation of how those leather pants hugged his backside. Well, she _definitely_ chose the right pirate ship to board. Emma repressed the urge to respond sarcastically and unrolled her bed onto an empty space on the floor. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the hold. Not that this room smelled any less of rum. She searched around the room for any signs of blankets or a pillow and walked over to Killian’s bed.

Killian had emerged from his wardrobe only to see she chose to sleep in the spot where Liam died. His anger transformed into guilt in an instant. He gulped and pulled the extra blankets and pillows out of wardrobe as well. He lightly set the pillow down, spreading out the blankets over the bedroll, and patting them down with care. When he finished he looked up to see her leaning against his bed with a look of vulnerability. He wordlessly pointed behind him at the made-up bedroll as he walked towards his bed. _She’s not blind, you idiot._ He put his hand on his bed and began unbuttoning his pants. All he wanted was to take these pants off and go to sleep. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Emma shouted at him, moving away from him and his bed. That worked well. 

“I’m getting _comfortable_ ,” he mused, continuing to peel the pants from his legs, “so I can go to sleep.” Emma gave a sigh of relief. “You _were_ complaining about our honeymoon,” he pushed her further out of her comfort zone with a smirk and a raise of his eyebrow. After a long pause, Emma got under the cover of blankets and stripped off her rags.

“Let me just get into my finest negligee,” she taunted back at him, sitting only in her shift now. Her teasing went ignored as Killian had already rolled on his side, back to her, appearing to already have gone to sleep. Emma pouted for a moment before settling into her blankets and closing her eyes. 


	3. Close Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flare as Killian and Emma find out more about each other

“Morning princess,” a soft lull sounded out above her head, somewhere in the corner.

She didn’t open her eyes yet, too bright. Who opened her curtains? She told the maids to stop doing that. She’d have to have her mother speak to them again. They always rolled their eyes when she gave them orders. Not gave them orders but really just politely asked them to do something. Or not do something.

What was a man doing in her room? She then became aware of the ache in her back and cracked one eyelid open.

_Not my room._

She jolted upright and looked in the direction of the voice and the captain’s quarters came into focus.

“Good morning, darling wife,” the cheery captain greeted her in just his leather pants. Oof. The events of yesterday hit her like a hangover. No. Wait. She was also _actually_ hungover. Her palm pressed against her head and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“You’re not dreaming love, you are actually married to this,” he gestured to his naked torso, smile practically reflecting sunshine.

“How’d you figure out I was a princess,” she asked groggily. She didn’t remember telling him that but who knows what she said after all that rum last night. Killian’s face dropped, smile erased from his face.

Killian scrambled for his shirt and Emma grabbed her clothes as well as if they had just been caught misbehaving by her parents. Except she wasn’t anywhere near her parents and fictionally married to a pirate only a few years older than her (and they didn’t really do anything wrong).

“You’re a bloody princess?!” Killian screeched at her, pulling his shirt over his head, hair standing on end.

“I thought you must’ve gone through my things and found out!”

“I had done but I found nothing! Are you a spy?!”

They both circled each other in the room, spouting questions, resembling a verbal boxing match. Their voices rose the more they questioned each other until someone knocked on their door and they both froze.

“Having a bit o’ a marital spat?” a gruff voice asked through their door. They considered the person’s question on the other side of the door, meeting the other’s eye. She was glaring at him, both trying to determine who should respond and with what.

“She doesn’t want me to leave the bed! Can’t keep her hands off me!” Killian shouted with as much humour as he could muster behind his voice. Emma threw a mug at him. He ducked and it crashed against his bookshelves.

“Lucky that wasn’t our wedding china,” Killian joked, avoiding the next object she chose to throw at him.

“Cap, bad weather up ahead, just a warning!” the gruff voice shouted once more and walked away from their door. Killian smirked at Emma, furiously searching for things to throw at him, “You’re telling me, mate,” he mumbled to himself. Emma spotted a particularly hefty piece covered in leather on his desk and picked it up, winding up to throw.

“You don’t _dare_ touch that!” Killian bellowed at her, shocking Emma enough to almost drop the thing. The crack in his voice when he said it made her freeze and she saw that his face had crumbled into a painful array of emotions only characterized by tragedy. She lowered her arm slowly, carefully setting the object back onto the desk with a soft ‘plunk’. Emma was frozen where she stood, frowning at Killian’s somber face. The mood had shifted in the room to one of deep remorse and Emma wasn’t sure where to go from here.

“What is it?” Emma mumbled, running her fingers along the edge of the table, desperate to inspect the item now, to see why it caused Killian such anguish. He scratched at his day old stubble and gestured towards the object as if to explain.

“It’s a sextant,” he nearly whispered the word that was caught in his throat. Telling her what it was wouldn’t explain its importance, though he wished it did in order to save him from further spelling it out.

She gave the slightest of nods to encourage him to disclose more about this object. She wanted to touch it again, to hold it and shield it from any danger just because any harm that came to it would befall Killian, and the idea of seeing that look on his face for any longer was too painful for her to bear.  Her hand remained gripped to the edge of the desk, preventing herself from reaching out to either Killian or the sextant.

“It…was my brother’s,” he slurred the last words together, not wanting to admit to using the past tense in speaking of Liam. He glanced in the corner where Emma’s bedroll lay and snuck a glance at her. She looked at him like a bomb about to go off, wincing when she realized what nerve she hit by picking up something on his desk. Of all things. She couldn’t have known.

“He was the captain.” Emma understood completely now. She knew the idea of inheriting power or a title from family members. Her respect for and interest in the pirate only grew.

“I was his lieutenant,” Killian croaked. He had sunk to the floor next to Emma’s bedroll, regressing into the memories of his brother.

“And I failed him,” he whispered, leaning his head back to rest against the wall and closing his eyes. He covered his eyelids with his palms, and whether it was shield out the rest of the world or so Emma wouldn’t see him cry, she wasn’t sure. Emma made her way across the room and slid down the wall next to him, allowing a few inches of space between them. He didn’t move but he knew she was there.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly, studying him with concern. After a moment, he gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head to indicate ‘no’.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” she murmured, leaning into him slightly in case he answered audibly this time. She saw his face scrunch in emotional pain at even having to think of being alone again.

“No,” a muffled voice said through his hands, definitively. Emma brought her hand up to touch him and hesitated for a moment, watching him, before she rested it on his knee. She felt his muscles relax underneath her hand and she nudged her body closer to his, resting her head onto his shoulder.

The ship hit a large swell and rocked them so hard that they fell over onto the floor. Killian scrambled to his feet, planting them solidly onto the floor to brace for another wave. He avoided Emma’s eye, pulled on a coat, and rushed out of the room to the deck.

* * *

The storm had thrown them off course more than Killian had anticipated. After getting the sails under control, he and his crew had been trying to chart out a new course around the chain of storms ahead of them, arguing about which route was safest. Their arguments led to the need for more detailed maps down in Killian’s room. He had been avoiding the moment he had to go below deck and face her. Maybe she wouldn’t be there. He stopped outside the doorway, hoping there were no sounds coming from inside so he could have some peace. There was a shift of papers coming from inside the room and he took a deep breath.

She was seated at his desk, pouring over a large, leather bound volume with one hand resting at her temple. The room had been cleaned up considerably since he left it; his bed was made, thrown items had been put back in their place, and his desk organized neatly. He then realized what she was reading.

“My captain’s log?” he cried out. Emma jumped in her seat, not realizing he had come into the room, letting out a small yelp of surprise. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with inspecting it until she turned and saw the expression on his face.

“I was just looking at—”

“It doesn’t matter _what_ you’re looking at. It’s none of your business!” he yelled, arms up in emphasis and had practically lunged across the room to close the book. Emma stood up, pushing the chair out behind her as she did, getting eye to eye with him. They were about the same height with Killian maybe an inch above her.

“Just what do you think you’re doing? What’s a princess doing sneaking onto my bloody ship?” he demanded, chest heaving with outrage.

“Are you going to let me answer or are you going to just interrupt me again?” Emma snapped back, taking a step towards him and trying to stand up straighter. Both of them were fuming, faces just inches apart. Something about him made her insides burn up, making her debate whether she wanted to slap him or embrace him. Either way it was infuriating and she wanted to push his chest out of her way to give her some air. He threw his arms up in the air again apparently to say he’d let her talk.

“Well which question do you want me to answer first?” she stalled.

She wasn’t sure what she was going to say to either question. Her reasons felt stupid to her now, silly, juvenile. A princess ran away from home, her _castle_. All he’ll do is mock her. She crossed her arms, rocking back on her heels and looked up at him for an answer. He gave a wave of his hand allowing her to choose which to answer.

“My parents have…expectations for when I turn 18,” she began, trying to map out the best way of explaining her situation to him.

“They expect you to marry, take over the throne,” he finished her thought and shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing.

“But I don’t get to choose who I marry. The arrangement is for political purposes for the kingdom, making allies, building armies. I have no say! And I can’t rule a kingdom!” Emma protested.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way. Her parents weren’t married through an arrangement and they didn’t want to arrange Emma’s life, but it was forced upon them by higher powers. She shook her head at the thought of running from her parents like that. They would understand though, especially her mother. Both of them rebelled against what life gave them and they overcame it. Why should they expect any different from their daughter?

“So you sneak onto a pirate ship and pretend to be married to the captain?” he poked at her.

“Not like there’s a ring,” she answered flatly. She wasn’t in the mood for their banter at the moment but couldn’t resist jabbing back at him.

“It’s always about the jewelry with you women,” he nagged but the corner of his mouth curved upwards and he looked at his left hand. In his short time as a pirate, he had accumulated a few pieces of jewelry. He lifted his hand to his mouth to wrench the pinkie ring off and motioned for her hand. Emma apprehensively moved it in his direction, he wiped the ring off on his shirt before sliding it onto her wedding finger and raising his eyebrow, questioning for approval.

“Ack, too big,” he noticed, “but, remember, we’re not really married,” he whispered, while taking the ring off her hand and putting it back on his. He straightened up.

“Guards will be after the ship now, lass. Checking boats at every port,” grabbing her upper arms to shake the idea into her head. She nodded along absently, trying to think of where to go next. At least she has a choice. His hands dropped from her shoulders and his posture stooped.

“No they won’t,” Emma mumbled, staring absently into space.

“Your father will have my head, Emma,” he said quietly to her like it was inconsequential but then raised his voice to grab her attention, “The minute we stop they’ll take you back to your home and kill my crew and me!” She peeked under her eyelashes at him but made no concession.

“They won’t be there. They won’t have noticed or cared. They have…” Emma waved her hand to come up with the right word, “just other things going on.”

“Right, so they won’t notice their teenage daughter, on the verge of getting married and taking over the throne, having just…left!” The volume of his voice was rising and he started pacing around the room, shaking his head.

“I’m almost an adult!” Emma barked back at him, crossing her arms.

“Yes, because, _that_ is the most important point of this conversation,” he snapped back at her, spinning on his heel and pointing at her accusingly, “you’re _almost_ an adult, who doesn’t want to face the responsibilities of growing up! Imagine!” He laughed at the end of his sentence, slapping the heel of his palm against his forehead in mockery. She scowled back at him. The rum came out at this point, swallowed in large gulps of regret and annoyance.

“Is this what being an adult is like? Drinking in the middle of the day?” Emma scoffed at him, simply trying to wound him and hide her insecurities over growing up.

“I don’t care _where_ this storm has blown my ship to, but you’re getting off this boat _tomorrow_!” he shouted.

 


	4. Above the Trading Post

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma leaves the Jolly Roger per Killian's request but he soon discovers he might not be rid of her just yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note there is some violence in this chapter

“Bloody hell, lass!” He shouted when he opened his eyes to see Emma hovering over him in bed, shaking in agitation that he was still asleep. Her arms were crossed, foot tapping, and she was glaring at him. He shook his head and sat up,

“Looking forward to leaving, are you,” he asked rhetorically, tilting his head up at her with only one eye open and rubbing his face in exhaustion. The storm hadn’t allowed him to sleep that much and the tension between them in the room didn’t make it any easier. He wished she had left his room already at least, but he guessed that wasn’t possible without questions from the crew. He groaned realizing he’d have to explain her leaving so soon to them. Gods, this woman came with all sorts of complications and has only been on his boat for 36 hours. Well, they had heard them fighting, but where would he say she went? 

“Emma,” he mumbled, eyes still half-closed, “what do I say to the crew about you leaving?” He came up with the first lie why should he have to come up with the second one. She seemed to have enough fire in her to be quick on her feet and think of something. Her head tipped to one side like he had just asked her what colour underwear she had on. Perhaps he could fall back asleep sitting up and she wouldn’t notice. 

“Couldn’t I just say you cheated on me?” she suggested, clearly thinking he was the type of man who would be unfaithful to his wife. His face scrunched up in distaste at this idea. He was the one demanding her to leave why did it have to be something he did wrong. While he knew this was all fictional, he still didn’t want this little situation to give him a bad reputation. This was ridiculous even for his life and it made him think about the last time he had a woman. Not just any woman at a port town for an overnight stop but someone his crew knew and saw him with. He realized it hadn’t been since the Navy, which felt like a different lifetime, when he was a different person. 

Killian let out a deep breath and sat up to get out of bed but Emma was still standing right there, hovering. He flicked his hand to motion her to get out of the way but she wouldn’t. What was she playing at? Did she want a solution to what he’d say to his crew? Maybe she was trying to ensure he wouldn’t similarly trash her name when she left. He cocked an eyebrow at her and leaned in towards her.

“Miss Swan, if you’d kindly move, I will tell my crew that you are leaving our vessel to visit your parents. I expect that excuse will suffice” he insisted, taking her shoulders to shift her body to the side. He thought this solution was fitting, seeing as it was likely true she would inevitably go back home no matter how strongly she desired to be ‘on an adventure’ or ‘escape’ from her life. No one can ever truly escape the troubles in their life until they face them head-on and defeat them. He hoped she would realize that running wasn’t the answer to your problems. 

 

\---------------------------------------

 

They watched the gangplank be lowered onto the dock and Emma seemed eager but also nervous about leaving. She was looking around like someone being hunted, which Killian suspected was the actual case. He just hoped he wasn’t going to be part of that hunt. Emma went to walk off the ship with the crew running the errand in town when Killian grabbed her arm and whispered in her ear,

“Miss Swan, I think we might have to sell it,” and Emma looked up at him confused for a moment before he continued, “It has to seem like I’m...heartbroken to see you go.” She still looked for an answer in his eyes, for the meaning of what he was saying. Certainly she can’t be that thick unless her parents were in a really unhappy marriage. Perhaps she hadn’t seen what love was supposed to look like, or at least young love of the newlyweds they were posing as, so Killian decided to simply press his lips against hers briskly. 

Emma’s eyes widened in surprise and her body stiffened, but the longer he kept his lips on hers, the more he felt her relax and even lean into it a bit. When he felt her give into the kiss he broke it off, not wanting to give her the wrong idea. But, he was dizzy when he broke away from her and let her go; something he didn’t expect to feel towards the young princess. His body was buzzing with the lingering taste of her lips and the feeling that rushed through him when they touched. 

Everything around him came back into focus and he realized the crew had been whistling and cheering them on during their ‘heartfelt goodbye’. He grinned at the success of selling their relationship and then noticed Emma looking rather shocked. Whether she was shocked by the kiss or got that same feeling of electricity running through her when they did, he wasn’t sure. It was probably best that she was leaving so things didn’t progress any further, because she seemed like a woman who would actually behead him if he crossed her. Though she also seemed like a woman who could be quite passionate and caring and it just depending on which side you fell with her. He thought he was probably leaning towards the beheading side right now based on the glint in her eye that meant trouble. 

She nearly ran off the ship in order to leave what he just did behind her. Maybe it was premature to kick her off the ship, but he didn’t need another person prying into his life, using his crew’s supplies. Maybe the story would be different if she were his actual wife and there wasn’t so much unsaid between them. He chuckled to himself just for thinking this much about her departure. He didn’t need another person to care for and he asked her to leave for gods’ sake. Life would be far easier without having to babysit a princess. Easier without living in fear of being hanged for kidnapping royalty. His stomach lurched at the thought. He had enough chance of being arrested just by being a pirate who stole a Naval ship. Luckily the crew were able to keep a low profile and learn which ports were safe to dock once they changed allegiance. Essentially, the towns safe to dock were those that ran illegal trading posts and brothels right in town, the latter of which the crew frequented and were heading to as soon as business had been taken care of. Luckily their business was at the trading post with a brothel on the upper floors. This town was one of his crew’s favorite for the existence of that very building. 

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

They weren’t staying overnight in the town, so Killian always had to end his days with stopping by the brothel to find his crew. Generally he just lounged in the foyer with a drink, admiring the view of half-naked women milling about eyeing him like they wanted to have him for dinner. It was a nice boost to his ego after the past few days he’s had. He was one to always look but never touch at the brothels his crew frequented. He much preferred the challenge of winning a woman’s attention rather than paying for it. After all, he didn’t have the money for paying for it anyway. 

Tonight felt different, though, when Killian stepped into the upstairs of the trading post. There was commotion in a place that was usually soothing and calm, arguments sounding out around him where there was usually quiet. Perhaps the king had finally cracked down on the laws against places like this? He saw no guards inside or out of the building and the madame was not at the entrance where she usually was. He caught the arm of one of the women and demanded to know what was going on. He didn’t need any of his men involved in trouble at a brothel. 

“There are men trying to sell us a new girl, saying she’ll fetch a high price for her name,” the woman sneered at him, seemingly annoyed that someone would catch a higher price from clients than herself. Killian didn’t know exactly how one became a whore but he certainly wasn’t aware of women being sold into the profession like slaves. While he imagined it wasn’t the profession of choice and generally a last resort of some girls, would the madame accept a girl for sale? It sounded outrageous that they would do something like that. What would make one girl more important as a whore than any other, he couldn’t imagine. 

“Sell a girl?” he asked incredulous. Even if someone from a wealthy family chose to become part of this life, he was certain this wasn’t a normal occurrence to them. The woman who had answered his question shook his hold off her arm and kept going about her business, unaffected by the commotion around her. 

Shouting came from one of the rooms down the hall of someone protesting fiercely to what was happening. He instinctually ran towards the door and flung it open to see men holding a girl on her knees with her hands tied. They were blocking her face, so he couldn’t tell if he knew her as one of the women of the brothel, but he inquired anyway,

“What’s going on here? I hear a girl is being sold to this establishment?” The madame was standing with the two thugs who had captured the woman. His hand went to grasp his sword handle, standing at the ready for anything to happen. 

“This is no concern of yours, Captain,” the madame insisted, stepping in front of the men and the girl, waving her hand, “these men are simply interested in helping my business thrive with new blood. I know your crew wouldn’t object.” Killian’s eyes narrowed at the madame, who he didn’t realize was so cold-blooded in her business transactions. While he shouldn’t care so much for a simple whore, he didn’t think this type of action was necessary. He craned his neck trying to see the girl, having an odd feeling that this was somehow his responsibility. They had clearly gagged her, since all he could hear were muffled noises coming from behind her captors. Killian noticed blood stains running across the carpet and lost his nerve, 

“Unless you’d like me to contact the authorities, I suggest you let this girl go,” he voice was raised and nearly cracking he was in such fear of what these people were capable of without feeling remorse.

“Cap, is tha’ you?” yelled someone down the hall, making their way towards the room he was inside of. Thankfully Killian had left the door to the room open. 

“Down here, mate!” Killian yelled out, stance at the ready with his hand still on his sword. 

“Cap, I think I saw some guys with your wife--” the sailor stopped as he reached the doorway to take in the scene in the room. Killian turned to Gary at mention of his ‘wife’ and the fact that he had seen Emma still in town got him worried. He thought she’d be long gone by day’s end, was she trying to get caught? 

“My wife is still here?” he asked, which was followed up by a considerable amount of muffled talking from the captive girl he still hadn’t gotten a look at. When Gary saw the men standing behind the madame he pulled out his sword, tapping Killian to do the same. 

“Aye, those men there took her,” Gary responded, advancing towards the captors in question. Killian couldn’t pull his weapon out fast enough, getting ready to lunge. His stomach dropped at this revelation. It was because of him she was even in this town and now she’s captured from men trying to sell her. She may not actually be his wife but that wouldn’t stop him from saving her from slavery. The madame pulled a knife out of somewhere, looking ready to keep Emma like she was already sold. Killian would not stand for this. 

“This woman is my wife! Untie her immediately!” he roared at them, easily pushing the madame at Gary for him to take care of while he took on her captors. One of the captors shifted, pulling a knife against Emma’s neck and her muffled screaming intensified. 

“Let her go, you _bloody_ bastard, or so help me, I will run you through with my sword!” Killian bellowed at the men now, who only seemed more amused by how much this girl seemed to mean to him. He made her get off his ship and it was his responsibility if she turned up dead because of it. That was the only way he could see it and he wouldn’t allow it to happen, whether he really cared for the girl or not. It wasn’t a question of feelings, it was about common human decency. Killian wasn’t the type to enjoy a public execution, nor would he stand for the threat of this private one. He supposed his relatively new title as pirate allowed him a few murders here and there, despite his general objection to unnecessary violence. He wondered if this is what Emma had expected when she thought of running from home. Perhaps this is one of the dangers her parents were worried of her running into. Sadly teenagers don't always realize the point of their parents' worrying until it's too late. 

Killian had had enough of these ridiculous men and swiped his sword under the arm of the captor holding a knife to Emma's throat causing the man to drop the knife. Killian was quick to press the point of his sword under the chin of that same man, causing the captor to release Emma. She swiped the leg of the other captor who dropped to the floor. While they were at an advantage they ran out of the room and once Killian untied her hands and took the gag off her mouth they took off towards the ship. They didn't have time to say anything to each other until they got on board the Jolly Roger. Once inside his quarters he took her into his arms and held her tightly, murmuring apologies into her ear as she sobbed against his chest. 

"I'm so sorry, Emma. Oh, sweetheart, if I had known anything like that could happen I would have never--"  his apology was cut off by a deep sob into his chest. Even if he had known about selling women into a life as a whore, would it have stopped him from ordering her off his ship? If he hadn't gone into the brothel to find his men would he have even known about her being sold there? Questioning himself made his guilt even worse than he could have imagined feeling over a girl he met a day ago. He felt Emma take a deep breath against him to snap him out of the 'what if' questioning. The only thing he could do to make up for kicking her out was to protect her from now on.

"Shhhh, it's alright, darling. You're safe now," he whispered into her hair, brushing it out of her face with his hand, but when he did so he felt something wet in her hair. He then remembered the blood he had seen on the carpet and realized she struggled when they trying to capture her. 

"Darling," he whispered, trying to get her to look up at him so he could see where she was hurt, "you're bleeding, Emma, we need to get you cleaned up." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading - comments and feedback appreciated!


	5. Minor Scrapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian takes care of Emma on the ship after rescuing her from the brothel and gets to know her better

He looked so serious as he lightly brushed away the dried blood on her forehead. His brow furrowed in concentration but his eyes were soft and apologetic. He blamed himself for her capture in the town and wouldn't think otherwise. There was something noble about him taking responsibility for her even though he didn't have to. He was a pirate; he didn't have to care about stowaways on his ships or young girls runaway from home getting into trouble. But he _did_ care. No matter how much he tried to fight his instinctive compassion for others and be a hard pirate of the seas, he still ended up taking care of her like a child who found a bird with a broken wing in their garden.

Killian uncorked his flask with his mouth. It seemed like a strange time to be drinking when he was supposed to be trying to clean her up. 

"Is the blood getting to you?" She joked, eyeing the flask in question. His eyebrows raised before he realised what she meant and then he poured some of his rum onto the damp cloth to continue cleaning her wounds. 

"Agh, what the hell?! I thought you were going to drink that!" The cork from his flask was still in his mouth but he was very careful with how he was treating her injuries. His arm dropped from dabbing her face in order to recork his flask. 

"The alcohol sterilises your wounds so they don't get infected," he explained to her. She felt like that was maybe common knowledge but had never really questioned people healing her before. She didn't remember any other time someone tending to her wounds had conflicted quite so many of her senses as they did now with a handsome pirate aiding her. He dabbed a plaster to her forehead to keep the wound closed and moved on to a scrape on her neck. He was so preoccupied with what he was doing that he didn't seem to notice her watching him with a smile. He was cute when he was so concentrated like this...and when he wasn't yelling at her.

Their situation in the brothel seemed to shift their relationship to an extent. The crew didn't ask many questions about what happened and she suspected that Gary filled them in on what happened in the town. They were all a bit busy in the brothel with other activities she was sure they could have cared less about her whereabouts, on the ship or off it. Still she felt like he was acting differently than before, like he owed her something. She felt quite like she owed him something as well, otherwise she'd be dead, so they were both tiptoeing around each other. Not in the literal sense, but just in terms of their attitudes. He was helpful and caring towards her, now, and he hasn't left her side since they got back on the ship. She was grateful and didn't know quite how to express such without making a joke about it to lighten the crease of worry on his forehead. It was as if he believed she could be hurt just by being on his ship or if he left her side she would somehow vanish or fall overboard.

"Where'd you learn all this hero stuff?" She asked, trying to lighten the look of concern on his face. _That's good, Emma, keep joking about him saving your life. Then he'll_ really _know how grateful you are_. She saw the corners of his mouth start to twitch in amusement. 

"Ah, the Royal Navy," he answered, clearly trying to mumble over the word ‘royal’ in talking to her. This explained why he was so shifty about her being a princess. It wasn't just him being a pirate, it was him being ex-Navy. Knowing this put Killian's knowledge and actions into perspective for Emma now. It made more sense how hesitant the was with some things like blatantly killing her captors. From the stories Emma knew, pirates were ruthless, evil men who would destroy anything that got in the way of their treasure. Being ex-Navy almost gave him a soft side in terms of his pirate life. Her slowly growing knowledge of his backstory and how he became who he is now made her smile. 

"So you're a trained hero," Emma jested again, seeing his mood was indeed capable of lightening. He dabbed her neck with the alcohol swab just then and she winced in pain. 

"I'm sorry, lass, I'm almost finished," he grimaced at the thought of causing her more pain. Emma was about to say how her mom used to kiss her scrapes to make them feel better but she thought that wasn't exactly appropriate to say to her fake pirate husband that she had a crush on. A shiver ran down her spine as he brushed loose strands of her hair out of the way. He mumbled apologies under his breath like his touch pained her or made her uncomfortable when it was quite the opposite. 

“It’s okay,” Emma muttered back but then he paused what he was doing and met her eyes, “I appreciate…all of thi-- everything. I really--”

“It’s the least I could do after--” they both cut each other off with pleasantries. Emma couldn’t bear the deep pain behind his eyes as if he personally caused all these wounds. It was almost as bad as when she picked up the sextant and crumbled to the floor. If anyone should be apologising it should be her but he just...wouldn’t allow her to thank him. He went back to cleaning the scrapes on her neck but she put her hand over his to stop him for a moment longer. 

“I’m the one who snuck onto your boat. I’m the one who ran away. Please just let me thank you for everything you’ve done,” Emma demanded, lightly squeezing his hand under hers for a moment causing him to look into her eyes again. He smiled in recognition of her gratitude and she slowly let go of his hand, though she really wanted to hold on to it, interlacing her fingers in his, and just pause there comfortably together. She wanted to him to always be touching her in any small way. His touch reassured her and made her feel safe for a reason she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was because he was so adamant about saving her in the brothel; she wasn’t sure. 

When they had gotten back to the ship and he held her for what felt like forever, she never wanted to move. Even after she had stopped shaking and could finally breathe evenly she wanted to stay in the cocoon of his arms around her. Every time she had let out a sob, his strong, toned arms would tighten around her as a reminder that he was there to protect her. She had never felt in need of someone else keeping her safe until she felt his arms around her that night. 

“I feel like I owe you more than a thank you,” Emma hesitated in saying this, not sure if it would give the wrong impression. He smirked, still looking at her neck to clean the scrapes. She wasn’t cognisant of the pain the alcohol on her open wounds caused since she felt so suddenly nervous around him. He seemed so focused on fixing her up that he wouldn’t look at her. Emma thought maybe he was avoiding her eye because of their kiss that morning. Maybe she was a terrible kisser and no one ever told her. Killian interrupted her inner monologue, though,

“You do owe me...something,” he started, eyes fixed on her wounds as he rubbed ointment onto them and Emma held her breath, “an explanation as to why you ran from home.” Emma opened her mouth to protest that she had already told him why she left, but they both knew she hadn’t told the whole truth behind her reasons for running. 

“A _real_ explanation, Miss Swan, if you please,” he pursed his lips after covering her neck with a bandage and finally met her eye, content with the job he had done on fixing her up. Emma let out a deep sigh before starting her story. This was going to be a long one, so she settled onto his bed, back against the wall, and Killian got comfortable next to her. 

“We were going to the winter palace for my 18th birthday,” she explained, “for a vacation and as a present, but one day I mentioned it and my mother just shut me down. She said we didn’t have ‘time’ for a vacation or the luxury to go to the winter palace, mentioning something about it not being safe there anymore...whatever that means.” Emma shook her head. She was still trying to figure out what on earth her mother meant by that. 

Her parents’ behaviour had changed in recent months, restricting her from horse riding through the forest or visiting town. Anything outside of the palace walls was out of the question for her all of the sudden. No matter how many times she asked what changed they simply said there was something ‘dangerous on the horizon’ and things weren’t safe anymore. 

They used to reminisce about running from home, though, talk about it like ‘the good ol’ days’ and how they met. They made it seem like a dream. Like one of those perfect adventures you read about in storybooks. They talked about the dangers of the forest and of running away like it was an important part of their lives and of growing into themselves. Emma couldn’t understand how they would want to shield her from these types of adventures if they spoke so fondly of them. Of course the whole parenting aspect of ‘do as I say not as I do’ played into it and she knew they were just trying to keep her safe, but that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to fill her head with grand adventures and then not let her go on one. The constriction of her boundaries in the recent months only made Emma’s interest in getting away from the castle seem all the more enticing. 

Killian wanted to poke fun at the mere fact they had two ‘palaces’ but he refrained, seeing the deep ridges creasing her forehead in concern and confusion. She was clearly still trying to figure out what was wrong at home but he recognised her need for something more in her life. Why be bound by the rules put upon her royal parents who broke those same rules? No one should be confined to only their home all their life, especially not someone so young. 

“I wouldn’t blame you for leaving,” he said softly, gently taking her hand to assure her he was speaking the truth, “they’ll understand.” He squeezed her hand and shifted closer to her, putting his other arm around her so she’d feel safe once again. Her face tilted upwards at him, letting a smile slip out and she rested her head on his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled into his neck. He smelled like sea salt, sand, and fresh linen wrapped up in a stubbled young pirate captain. Her lips were so close to his skin when she spoke that she kissed that spot on his neck without thinking. They both immediately stiffened in each other’s arms and Emma broke away from him. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking,” she blurted out, looking down at her hands. She couldn’t believe she just kissed his neck. She felt his eyes on her and the hand she was still holding pulled her towards him. She looked up to meet his eyes. They were studying her but soft, corners creasing into a smile as he cupped her face with his other hand. His thumb brushed against her cheek and his eyes glanced downward at her lips. 

“Gods, Emma, you’re dehydrated! Your lips are so chapped. I’ll fetch you some water,” Killian said, letting go of her face and jumping off his bed. She felt embarrassed that she even thought he would kiss her in response, instead of continuing to take care of her all night. Maybe he only thought of her in some little sister way or… Emma shook her head. _Stop thinking like this_. Emma leaned back against the wall, letting her head drop back and closing her eyes. She felt Killian’s movement around the room and then approach the bed again, but she kept her eyes closed, trying to erase the past few minutes. 

“You must be tired. You can sleep in my bed; I’ll take the floor,” Killian told her, holding the cup of water up to her. She took the water and before she could think she grabbed his hand,

“Wait...can you...stay here? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” she explained, holding her arms across her chest uncomfortably. He eyed the small single bed, clearly trying to figure out how they’d both fit on there together. Surely he’s had other people sleep with him in his bed before. She started moving over to lie parallel with the wall so he could slide in, but he still hadn’t responded. 

“Of course, lass,” he reassured her with a warm smile and stripped his clothes off to get into bed. She had forgotten about that part - the situation where a nearly-naked Killian would be pressed against her body all night. Best plan or worst plan? He made movements to get onto the bed but was gesturing at her asking,

“Do you mind if I sleep on the inside?” he asked sheepishly, crawling up to the end of the bed where he could climb over her feet to be against the wall. He lay facing her and began to put his arm around her before pausing awkwardly. Emma panicked. She couldn’t face him because then they’d be sleeping and hugging at the same time? Sleeping on her back made it awkward because then his arm and body around her wasn’t really comforting. She had never shared a bed with a man before and clearly hadn’t thought her request through before asking it. Emma finally turned her back to him and his arm settled comfortably around her and tugged her gently into him as he simultaneously shifted towards her so their bodies were flush against each other.

Emma thought her heart must be pounding audibly at this point but then she felt the steady beat of his heart against her back and the comfort of how their bodies fit together perfectly like matching puzzle pieces allowed her to relax. She sensed the tension in his body trying to decide what to do with this situation while she enjoyed the warm comfort of someone next to her. His hand was hovering over her hip, deciding how close and cuddly he wanted to be to her. She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder,

“Goodnight,” she whispered, shimmying her body to get accustomed to his shape around her before relaxing again. Once she settled in place, Killian’s hand came around her waist and he pulled himself closer to her so she felt fully enveloped by his warm body. Emma smiled to herself and closed her eyes right as he whispered back,

“Goodnight Mrs. Jones.”

 

**Reviews and comments encouraged! Thanks for reading!!**


	6. Royals Approaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian starts to come to terms with his feelings for Emma but his time to enjoy them is cut short by and unexpected visitor

He came to consciousness slowly, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his bed. Something was very different this morning, but he couldn’t remember what it was. The waves lapping against the the enchanted wood always made him feel at peace when he awoke, but something else was adding to the serenity of the morning. He just knew he liked this peaceful feeling and wanted to hold on to it, so he gripped the covers to snuggle further into this state. But, instead of covers that he had grasped for, he felt soft skin under his hand. For a moment he moved his hand back and forth over the skin, trying to remember why someone was in his bed. Whoever it was they made him feel better in his own bed than he had felt since before Liam died. He exhaled in content and pulled the person in his bed closer to them, closer to feeling whole again.

            The warmth of her was spreading through his body and he squeezed her waist in thanks for being such a comfort to him in a way he hadn’t expected. He then realized his hand was on her bare skin and her shirt had drifted up her torso in their sleep so that the hem rested just below her bust. He moved his hand up to pull the shirt back down for her, but once his hand had crept that far up her body he felt the warmth of her rush downward to a very specific location. He felt himself begin to stiffen and his body froze with his hand hovering just under her breast. Part of him was in panic and the other part was in arousal, desperately wanting to continue caressing her perfectly smooth skin.

            Some higher power gave him the willpower to stop his hand from doing the wrong thing and let him rest it comfortably back on her waist. He let out a deep sigh of relief into her blonde curls and his muscles relaxed against her. Well, all but one muscle relaxed. He realized his arousal was pressed against her when she stirred, letting out a low hum of someone content with how they slept last night. She pushed herself backwards into his body to stay warm and comfortable and his panic rose again. Each time he tried to move his hips away from hers she just unconsciously propelled herself back in contact with him. He bit his lower lip, trying not to focus on the tightening in his briefs or how her skin against his felt so right. The pressure in his briefs only made him think about how he rarely wore anything to bed and how much he wished that were the case right now. To have every inch of his bare skin against hers without the barriers of cloth between them would be heaven.

            Something about holding her, when they got back to the ship and she was safe, gave him purpose. Not that being a captain didn’t give him purpose but he had someone else to care for aside from his crew. It wasn’t just the chivalry he was taught from the Navy but there was an internal pull he felt towards her. It made no sense but he learned from a very young age not to question his gut in matters such as this and just to enjoy what is given to you while you can. He sighed, tilting his head into the curls covering her neck and he tried one more time to distance the lower half of his body from hers.

            “Are you okay?” she murmured to him, voice thick with sleep and he froze, now extremely aware of how hard he was against her still. His cock twitched at the sound of her voice as she rolled slightly to tilt her head back and face him. He grimaced with discomfort of the situation he was currently in, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take care of it any time soon. He was still trying to drift his hips away when she scooted her bottom back in contact with his erection and settled it there. He exhaled in defeat.

            “You keep wiggling and it woke me up,” she mumbled, reaching behind her to stop his hips from moving. With her hand on his thigh, he thought about how grateful he’d be if she just moved her hand a little further down and took care of his problem down there. _Does she not feel that?_ Surely she must’ve felt him against her. Maybe she was teasing him, making his problem worse on purpose as some form of torture she enjoyed. Her hand left his thigh and he thought it’d be best if he no longer had his arm around her torso, but as he tried to remove it, Emma grasped it in hers. She brought his hand back into its rightful place around her waist and interlaced her fingers in his mindlessly. Did she realize what she was doing to him? She seemed so innocent and casual about it like it was something they had done every morning for years. Like they were _actually_ married.

            “Now keep still,” Emma demanded, snuggling into him once again. She had to know how torturous she was being every time she grinded her body against his cock, enticing him to make a move with it. He sighed deeply into her neck, surrendering his control of their entanglement. He suddenly understood how Emma made the ‘mistake’ of kissing his neck last night when he noticed how close his face was to her flesh. His breath was warm on her skin, lips longing to taste the pinky softness below her ear. He was so focused on restraining himself that all he could feel was the throbbing on his heart pumping blood directly to his erection.

            “I wanted to…” Killian started, vitally aware of the millimeters between his lips and her skin, “make sure you had enough room,” he cleared his throat, expelling more breath against the sensitive skin behind her ear, “in the bed.”

Every sense had been awakened when Emma guided their interlaced hands slowly up her torso. Her breathing was ragged as their bodies tensed together in anticipation of further contact. His lips ghosted along the curve of her neck, because he couldn’t help himself any longer as his hand was brought right under her breast, where it had been hovering earlier, unbeknownst to her. Everything was uncertain while they both braced themselves, waiting to see if the other would act. His hand skimmed along the hem of her shirt, tantalising her the way she did him all morning. Right as his lips descended on her nape, an alarm bell rang out followed by a shout through their door,

“Royal ship approaching!”

Killian and Emma broke apart as if a bomb had landed between them. Killian launched himself over Emma and off the bed, yanking his pants on in panic. The last thing he wanted to do was put these leather pants on, but it wasn’t like he could get away with his white cotton pants in his current condition. Damn woman.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Emma sit up and pull her shirt down modestly. He glanced in her direction while he was pulling on his shirt and met her eye with a forced smile. _That was close_. As much as he’d like to whimper over the separation of their bodies, he was partially glad they were interrupted before anything happened. He hadn’t expected feeling anything resembling attraction to this lost princess when he first discovered her on his ship. The addition of damage he had caused to her didn’t lead him to the realization of his feelings either. But, when she told him about herself, about her family, he couldn’t help but sense a closer connection between them. They understood each other in a deeper, fundamental way like kindred spirits. But, he wouldn’t want to get too attached to someone so prone to wanderlust.

“Get dressed,” he tossed her clothes to her on the bed and continued to collect his things around the room. “We need to hide you, so I hope your shoes have a good grip on them.” He rushed out into the hallway to get more information. He wouldn’t let someone else take her, not this time. That is, unless she wanted to be caught. The idea hadn’t crossed his mind, but it would explain why she might have been caught in the previous town. Not that she meant to be sold into slavery but perhaps she was looking for a way home so she was caught on purpose. He caught someone in the hall,

“Whose ship is it?” Killian asked, hoping it wouldn’t be someone who would cause too much trouble. Certain Naval captains were more lenient with pirates than others.

“Delaney,” the deckhand sneered. They had their worst luck with Captain Delaney, who was King George’s most notorious sycophant.

“Bloody hell, of course it is,” Killian groaned, glancing over his shoulder to see Emma join them in the hallway, placing her hand on the small of Killian’s back. It made him jump slightly in surprise but then warm in comfort that she was there next to him. He leaned into her as a form of greeting her to the conversation. His stomach lurched at the thought of losing her to that pompous royal arse, Delaney. The royal captain must have heard about what happened at the brothel and knew exactly where he could find Emma because of it.

“Emma, darling, the ship that’s after us,” he started, trying not to get lost in her green eyes and the sensation of her fingers playing across his lower back, “they’re after you. To bring you home.”

Killian then remembered that none of his crew knew who she _really_ was and side eyed the deckhand standing there waiting for instructions. Killian cleared his throat and ordered,

“Tell the crew, _everyone_ , that she’s not here. You saw my wife leave the ship yesterday to visit her parents and that’s where she is. Understand?” The deckhand nodded astutely and rushed down the hall to spread the word.

This might work, especially since half the crew probably didn’t know she was indeed back on the boat now and truly believed she was gone. He turned to her again, taking her hands in his to explain the plan. Before he could start talking, someone in the narrow hallway bumped into them, forcing their bodies together against the wall. With one of his legs between hers and body braced around them, Killian became painfully aware of how tight his leather pants were once again. He could feel her uneven breath against his stubble as he caught their balance, gripping his hands on the wood panel above her head. For a moment he forgot the commotion around them and their proximity reminded him what almost happened in his bed not just ten minutes before. He absentmindedly licked his lips and smirked at her, bringing his arms down to rest on the curve of her hips. He opened his mouth to speak, when someone grabbed his shoulder,

“Hiding place is clear, Cap,” Gary notified them quietly and motioned over his shoulder, implying they should get moving before Delaney reached the Jolly Roger. He clapped him on the shoulder, glanced at Emma and kept moving down the hallway.

Killian squeezed Emma’s hips and tilted his head, leaning into Emma’s neck. His lips brushed against her earlobe, electrifying every nerve in his body, and he felt her shudder under the contact.

“We have to go,” he breathed into her ear, desperately wanting to follow it by gyrating his hips against hers and taking her right in the hallway. But it was neither the time nor the place to take such actions, as much as he wanted to, he had to get her safely hidden away from the Royal Navy ship approaching.

            They rushed to the crew’s cabin where the hiding spot was located. Everyone else had gone abovedeck to prepared for boarding. Killian went to open the trapdoor of the hold below but paused, chewing his lip in uncertainty.

            “You want to stay here, don’t you?” he blurted out, turning to Emma and bracing himself for the rejection of sharing a pirate’s life with him.

            “What?” she asked, face breaking into a smile, incredulous that he would say such a thing but seeing that he wasn’t convinced, she grabbed his hands to stop fidgeting nervously.

            “You don’t…” he scratched nervously behind his ear trying to work up the nerve to continue, “ _want_ to get caught by the Navy, do you?” He winced at the finish of his sentence. This was his equivalent of asking if she _like_ liked him in primary school. He was staring at their joined hands when he sensed her shake her head to negate his fears.

            “Why would I?” she shook his hands to get him to meet her eye. “You think I want to go _home_? Killian…” she was still shaking her head, letting a smile spread across her face. She looked like she was about to laugh at him, which made him feel all the more idiotic about his insecurities. He gave her a tight-lipped smile to say ‘forget I asked’ because now he was embarrassed that he did, but then she let go of his hands and brought one up to cup his face. Her hands were soft against his rough stubble and her touch made his smile transform into one of true happiness, though he tried to prevent his face from being read like an open book.

            “You saved me,” she insisted was the reason she wanted to stay. Of course! She felt indebted to him for saving her life so she would repay him by continuing to be his wife in front of the crew and the like. She must think it helped his reputation or authority as captain such that being married was a sign of power, being older and wiser than the other men. He could accept that; he could live with her staying as paying her debt to him, but he knew she would grow tired of life on high seas and flee eventually. But, for now, he could accept this as her reason.

He stiffened absently in response to unreturned feelings and showed her the hiding spot and how to remain hidden.

-/-

Delaney with a small group of his seamen had boarded the Jolly Roger authoritatively, ignoring the fact that the ship had once been property of King George. The Navy captain now viewed the Jolly Roger as a disgraced ship, much how one would consider a woman who wasn't a virgin on her wedding night.

“Lieutenant Jones, what a surprise!” Delaney scoffed as he stepped up to the helm where Killian stood stone faced.

“It’s Captain, now,” he corrected him through gritted teeth. Delaney ignored him.         

            “Princess Emma, hand her over, Jones,” Delaney snapped as if ordering something from a menu.

            “Forgive me, but have you mistaken my ship for a _castle_ , Harold?” the young pirate replied, trying to keep his face unblemished by emotion. “Why I thought you saw my ship as a mere pile of floating wood!” Killian cocked an eyebrow and a sly smile at Delaney, happy that his quick wit decided to kick in at the most fortunate moment.

            “Which is pre _cisely_ why she would be here,” Delaney surmised, craning his neck around the ship, looking for trap doors he hadn’t accounted for. For a man in support of such corruption, Killian thought he might be a bit less obvious about having no clue how to search this ship. It gave Killian some comfort that Emma would be safe in her hiding spot considering Delaney had no idea what he was doing. He had walked behind Killian and tried to surreptitiously peek under the lid of a storage crate but couldn’t manage to lift the top with his index finger. Delaney’s face scrunched up in frustration and Killian tried to hide his amusement.

            “I haven’t seen a member of any royal family since…” Killian paused, trying to remember who, besides Emma, was the last regal person he had seen but threw his hand up to signify he had no idea.

            “For a pirate, Jones, you certainly are a bad liar,” Harold quipped, trying to throw Killian’s game off but it wasn’t working. He had gotten partially distracted by his memories of being in bed with said princess earlier that morning.

            “I think we both know I’d rather die than be under the order of royalty on my ship again,” Killian could say this truthfully. Unless King George died or issued a formal apology, not that that would help, Killian refused to associate with any member of a regal family.

 _With the exception of Emma_.

It was easy to forget who she really was with all the pretending and lying they did. In this particular case, though, there were other factors clouding his judgment with the aid of being on the open sea. As a pirate, it was easier to forget that rules and power existed and people were out there trying to stop him, because business had been running smoothly under the nose of the kingdom he defied. It made him forget who Emma was to _other_ people, because right now that didn’t matter, not to him.

“There was talk of a fight at the brothel in the last town you stopped in. The Madame mentioned you by name, so I have every right to search your ship,” Delaney stated, marching off to search below deck.

-/-

Delaney had ransacked the Jolly Roger, searching every crevice of the ship he could get his hands into. After walking out of the crews quarters looking rather miffed, hair askew, he stuck his head in the air and decided the princess must not be there. The pirate tried to hide his look of glee that she had hidden successfully but his palms had been sweating this entire time in fear of getting caught. He would probably be hanged for kidnapping if she were found, along with all of his crew being tried for treason. It was quite a charge, harbouring an escaped princess.

“I suppose a pirate could be telling the truth,” Delaney eyed him suspiciously as if suddenly he had the ability to tell the difference between the truth and a lie coming out of Killian Jones’ mouth.

“Not bad for a lieutenant turned pirate,” Harold scoffed, not taking his eye of Killian, waiting for him to reveal any sign that Emma was on the ship, “I mean, you haven’t gotten yourself killed like your brother, yet.”

He was baiting Killian to react, knowing right where to hit him. Killian clenched the helm, trying to calm his rising anger.

“Your _king_ was responsible for my brother’s death,” Killian seethed at the Navy captain, “sending us on a mission like that.” He could feel the tears beginning to sting his eyes with the memory of the final days with his brother, losing him on this very ship. And Delaney had the nerve to view it as a disgrace to the crown. The opposing captain paced behind Killian at the helm, clearly coming up with his next jab,

“Did it ever occur to you, Jones, that King George sent you and your brother to that land to die?”

            If he gripped the helm any harder, a piece of it would break off. In all the months of self-pity and self-loathing after Liam’s death, the thought of King George intentionally sending his brother to his death had never crossed his mind. The fact that it had crossed Delaney’s concerned him beyond measure. He had never been more certain about his decision to become a pirate and disown the crown than in this very moment, for he would avenge his brother’s death if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and Comments MUCH appreciated!!


	7. Close Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian tries to come to terms with Emma's familial connections to who murdered his brother and how that affects their relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: my wonderful beta/spiritual story guide dorkout complained there were too many feels in result of this chapter, so for that, I apologise. Otherwise, enjoy and comments/suggestions welcome! Thanks for reading!

Once Delaney deboarded the Jolly Roger, Killian was in a blind rage. He tore down to the crew's quarters and ripped open the hatch to where Emma was.

"Swan, you can come out now," he shouted down the hatch and she poked her head out and smiled at him. Her smile was met by Killian's absent stare into the empty space of the hiding spot. He held his hand out for her to climb out, and once she did he dragged her out of the room into his private quarters and shut the door. She was still smiling, thinking it was a game or he was rushing out of excitement and adrenaline.

"So it worked!" she said jubilantly when he turned around. She was practically standing on her tip toes in excitement, eager to celebrate their successful aversion.

"Emma, which king do you live under?" he demanded but tried not to raise his voice just yet. His hand was twitching against the side of his leg in energy and agitation, feeling like he was about to burst after his confrontation with Delaney. He saw Emma's face drop in confusion, brow furrowed in concern.

"Why does it-" Emma began to mutter before Killian interjected angrily,

"Because they  _killed_  him, Emma!" His face felt red hot, all the blood rushing to his head in rage, unable to control it anymore. Emma was beginning to look as distraught as Killian in reaction to how must appear to her.

"Wha- Who?" Emma's eyes were searching his face for any indication of what he might be talking about or why his mood would have changed this much in a thirty minute span.

"I never should have let you onto my ship. You could be a  _spy_  for Gods' sake!" Killian was now pacing around his desk with his arms flailing in gesticulation. His head was starting to hurt with all the ramifications of what Delaney suggested to him.

"Killian,  _what_  are you talking about?" She was trying to raise her voice to a level that would pause his contemplations for a moment but clearly hadn't worked. If she was talking, all he could hear was a dim sound out of the corner of his mind that didn't seem to matter. His head was spinning so he sat down, but the amount of energy the thoughts had produced only ramped him up out of the chair immediately to continue pacing.

 _Was he trying to kill Liam or me as well?_  he asked himself in, for once, serious concern for his life. If King George wanted him dead, though, Delaney would have alluded to such ideas when he was here. Maybe it was all a lie. Unless Emma was sent to kill him, but she seemed so sincere when she opened up to him last night. She wouldn't let herself get caught by hoodlums looking to sell women if she were sent on a mission.

 _So she's not a spy_  he concluded, gesturing towards her absently as if she weren't standing in the room with him.

She had clearly grown tired of his insane mumblings and sidled next to him, demanding a clue as to what he was on about with her presence.

"My brother!" he shouted at her as if the point were plain as day. For a brief moment his eyes met hers and he saw she didn't understand. It only made him angrier that she didn't already know, that this didn't instantly make perfect sense to her.

"He  _killed_  my brother, Emma!" he bellowed, tears of anger welling up in his eyes. He couldn't help it anymore, hiding his emotions from his face. He wanted to let the walls fall down and let her carry his burden with him.

"I don't understand," she mumbled through her quivering lips. The green in her eyes were magnified by the tears brimming over. She went to take his hand, to make him stop moving so much and calm down to explain it to him. He knew she was trying to help but he just wanted to rid himself of all of this pain, let someone else deal with it for a day.

"What did I do wrong?" she whispered, fingers curling around his hand.

He didn't realize how close she was standing to him until she whispered that and he felt her breath on his ear and a wisp of her hair brush against his face.

Then, all at once, his hands were cupping her face and his lips were crushing hers, backing her against the wall of his room in urgentness. He heard the thud of their bodies hitting the wall and his tongue probed into her mouth, searching for relief from the pain he was feeling. His hands left her face to clutch her long blond locks in one hand and the other roamed down her torso, itching to grab any other satisfying part of her body. She moaned into his mouth when he grabbed her ass and pushed his hips against hers in search of friction.

He cupped her bottom, moving his hand deftly along the back of her thigh to hike her leg up around his waist as she gasped in surprise. He felt her leg tighten around his back so he could grind against her harder that he growled into her mouth in enjoyment. He wanted to touch every part of her, get rid of their clothes, but also never part their bodies. He swiped his tongue along the roof of her mouth, teasing her into battling their tongues against each other for dominance. He finally retracted his tongue from her mouth to exhale quickly before delving in again.

Before he could dive in, she bit his lip playfully, nibbling on it for a moment and his hunger for her grew, but he broke away, suddenly realizing what he was doing. His hips were still grinding into hers and his head dropped to rest on her shoulder, not wanting to break free from how good this felt but knowing he had to, in order to maintain any respect he had for himself. He felt her leg drop from its position wrapped around him and he sighed in against her neck, not wanting to forget what that felt like.

She was still trying to nuzzle him, not realizing their brief encounter had ended as quickly as it had started until he took a step back from her, pushing himself off her body.

The playful grin she had on her face disappeared in an instant and she looked at him with such concern once again. What was he playing at, thinking he could be with a princess? He was clearly insane or his life was part of a dream; he wasn't sure. He took another step back with his head hung, still trying to figure out what on earth he was thinking.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," he muttered, letting out a brief chuckle at himself for acting like such a fool. He ran his hand down his stubbly jaw trying to think but it was hard to concentrate with all this pent up energy.

"I needed to do that, just once, for  _real_ , in case…" he sighed not wanting to admit the truth.  _In case your family ended up murdering mine_. "...in case I didn't get a chance to again."

He licked his lips, savouring the taste of her on his tongue, not wanting to forget it. It felt so painful to think that she might have known anything about his brother's death, to think that she's related to the people that did. She had more power than she could ever comprehend over him, yet seemed to think nothing of it. He met her eye but it was like she was looking through him, not present in the moment.

"King George," she finally answered blankly, still staring straight through him but wincing slightly when she admitted her connection to royalty. The name echoed in his head, amplifying in volume each time it rang through his brain. Every time he heard it, it became more painful to breathe, to think. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of all the things he's ever dreaded would happen. The woman he would fall in love with would betray him, her family responsible for his brother's death, and only finding out about it after it was too late. He needed air, space, room. He ran for the door and sprang it open, running to the upper deck, and gulping for air when he reached it.

He hoped she hadn't followed him, that she understood what his reaction meant for her, for them. He wouldn't be able to get close to her again, be familiar. The further their lives and hearts became entwined the more emotionally damaging it would be to them both. He couldn't say his inevitable goodbye to her unless he stopped things between them now, for good. It would cost him too much anguish to get closer to her now.

-/-

He didn't go back to his quarters til long after dark. He never saw Emma get dinner when he was in the mess, so he had brought a plate of food in with him when he returned. She was sitting up in his bed reading a book, wearing nothing but her shift, which pained him to look at. She seemed to fit right into this image of the captain's wife, comfortably reading in her nightclothes in bed, waiting for him to finish his day at work. When she heard him open the door, she looked up, and her whole face lit up at his presence. The feeling of guilt from earlier intensified, a pang in his chest that would only get worse if he didn't explain now. He set down her food on the shelf next to her and climbed into bed with her, both of their backs against the wall.

"Forgive me for my actions earlier, milady," Killian tried to keep his voice steady while saying this, to convince her that it was a mistake despite how it made him feel. He had to keep formality in his speech, reminding himself of who she was and who her family was. Emma opened her mouth to respond but he held up his hand to stop her.

"It was bad form on my part and it won't happen again, I assure you," he stated rigidly. He wanted to wince at how rehearsed this sounded, how much it sounded like his lieutenant self. He might not be that honorable man anymore but he could still admit and apologise for his mistakes to a princess, he owed her that much. He couldn't bare to look at her in the face, to know whether his apology was a good or a bad thing in her eyes, whether she enjoyed their brief moment of indulgence.

Because, either way, he couldn't let it happen again.  _Both_  times he's kissed her, for cover or in result of his feelings, he's initiated it, so he simply needed to restrain himself more. Perhaps he should spend less time around her, allow her to explore the ship and forge friendships with others on board.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her reach for his hand but he jumped off the bed before she could stop him. No more hand holding, unless it's in front of the crew, he couldn't bare to give her the wrong idea in private. He glanced up at her and saw the look of confusion and hurt on her face, asking what's changed.

"I can't…" he tried to explain, shaking his head, trying to hold strong to his promise to himself. He couldn't risk getting any closer to her, showing feelings for her. He was rocking back and forth on his feet, trying to determine the nicest way to reason with her.

"Because eventually, no matter how much you deny it, you're  _going_  to return home to your parents!" he blurted out, on the fence between sadness and anger. He didn't want to resent her for who her relatives were. It wasn't something she could control, so he couldn't blame her, no matter how easy it was to do so. She looked so lost, hurt, like he didn't trust her to stay with him.

"It's just politics, Killian!" she shouted back at him, eyes becoming glassy with tears, "I have nothing to do with what King George does!" Her lower lip was trembling and he couldn't stand being in the room any longer, rushing out and closing the door. He heard the food tray smashing against the door behind him as he sank down to the floor in a crumbled mess of emotions.

-/-

He lost track of how much time he spent shaking against the door to his own quarters, staring into the empty hallway, trying to strengthen his resolve in order to re-enter his room. His muscles ached from the tension, from holding back his emotions from Emma. He leaned his head back against the door and took out his pocket watch to see that he had been sitting there for over an hour. She would be asleep by now.

He crept silently back into the room. All the lamps were out, but he knew the room well enough to navigate himself blindly to the bed. She, of course, was sleeping in it, but he attempted to crawl up beside her against the wall. She had left his space open on the mattress so he could wiggle in between her and the wall, trying not to disturb her sleep.

As much as he tried not the encroach on Emma's side of the single bed, his shoulder molded against Emma's back, allowing her to lean against him in the smallest way. His muscles ached from tension at the base of his neck and along his shoulders in restraining himself from touching her. Pieces of her hair had tumbled onto his bare chest, tickling his senses and tormenting him each time she shifted ever so slightly. He couldn't tell if she was awake or not, but she didn't move aside from the small rise and fall of her body as she breathed. He wanted to turn on his side, wrap his arms around her and hold her. If only he could resist the temptation, tie his body to the bed in this impersonal position so he couldn't move in the night as he would inevitably do.

He clenched his jaw and his body stiffened in response to the small noise Emma made while dreaming a supposedly pleasant dream. It sounded like the noise she made that morning when she was waking up to his arms around her. He absentmindedly made a humming sound, low in his throat, caught up in the recollection of the morning.

A final strand of blond hair interrupted his thoughts as it floated onto his face, inviting him into its tresses. He sat up slightly to brush the hair that had wandered across his territory back over Emma's shoulder. As he swept her hair back, his fingers grazed the smooth skin of her shoulder, warm and welcoming. He trailed his hand from her shoulder down her arm, slowly mapping the curves of her body. Her breath was slow and steady, affirming she was asleep now, so he could take a moment to appreciate her solid form curling against his as he rolled onto his side to face her.

Now they were in that position again, bodies molding together in familiar comfort, allowing Killian to once again wrap his arm around her, pulling her closer to him, securing her there for the remainder of the night.

 

 


	8. In the dark of night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma notices some changes in Killian's behaviour making her want to test the bounds of their relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks always to dorkout for being my spiritual story guide and reading all my drafts etc etc - mistakes are mine i'm sure there are a few - thank you for reading!

She woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare that she of course forgot the second her eyes opened. Her body shuddered in reaction to whatever it was that was after her in the dream, but she was anchored in place by Killian's arm around her. Now startled awake by this new development, she took a moment to enjoy the fine details of his form molding to hers, body giving into her curves at her hips, the bend of her legs entangled with his. She inhaled deeply, taking in feeling, the moment, every smell and sensation that buzzed across the surface of her skin at each point his body met hers.

She wondered if he slept like this every night, curling around her after she had fallen asleep, because he was always stiff and distant around her in the waking hours. She smiled at the thought that his body would naturally take to hers in his sleep. Maybe he didn't know he was sleeping like this either, until he woke up that way in the morning. He left in the mornings before she woke up to greet him. She supposed he was giving her some freedom on the ship now, needing to tend to his captain duties, so she was thankful that he presumably trusted her on her own on his ship.

Experimentally, she lifted her hand under his, intertwining their fingers slowly before resting their joined hands over her stomach. It made her think of that one morning, more than a week ago, the morning of the day he kissed her, when Delaney came aboard. She remembers that whole fondly, wishing they had been like that every morning, on the brink of something. It set her teeth on edge with desire for that morning to continue where it left off or where that kiss could have continued.

 _That kiss_.

What was he playing at, springing on her like that with such fire? She'd never seen a man look at her the way he did before he went for it. Hell, she'd never been kissed like  _that_ , like every cell in her body ached to be touched by his, like she couldn't breathe unless his mouth was on hers. She came alive in that moment, like his kiss sparked something in her she had never realized or felt. She wanted to feel it again, even to remember so vividly what it was like with his body pressed against hers. Now, all she could remember was how her lips tingled after he broke away from her, how daring she felt biting his lip, and how much she enjoyed acting on the impulses she had around him.

Here she was, awoken in the middle of the night to find her pirate wrapped around her as if he hadn't been dodging her for a week. She wanted to act on her impulses again. She wondered if he'd wake up if she tried to progress their nighttime closeness, if she were to guide his hand over her bare skin, would something go off in his brain to tell him he wasn't dreaming?

Or, would it be considered as crossing some sort of line, taking advantage of their intimateness that he thought she didn't know about? Would he be embarrassed to find out that she knew he was still showing affection towards her in this passive way? If only she could figure out a sensitive way to confront him about it, about his feelings that she knew to be true.

She squeezed his hand briefly in frustration that he hid this from her, hoping he would just wake up and actually talk to her like her first few days on the ship, before things got complicated by the damn Royal Navy. He stirred for a moment in response but nestled his head into the crook of her neck so she could feel his warm breath on her skin.

 _Not helpful_.

-/-

She was making a habit of it now, setting her internal clock to wake her up in the middle of the night so she could feel his arm around her, his solid form against hers in his small bed. But then, in the morning, she would wake up and his reassuring presence against her back wouldn't be there any longer and she would be alone. It made her stomach drop to think he would hide his affection for her, obscure it by sleep and think nothing of it.

But she knew. She would wake in the middle of the night, ensconced in his warm, the smell of him blanketing around her, his beard scratching lightly against her neck or shoulder. For a brief moment of consciousness she would realize it was him and not a dream and then she would drift back into the depths of sleep. Night after night she would hope to sleep lightly, to wake in the night to feel his body, a solid arm tugging her against his body, just for a moment and know he was still there.

Oh, how she wished, just one morning, they would both slowly drift into consciousness, bodies joined together, and take up where they left off that morning that the Navy came. Would he reciprocate or was that kiss just him caught up in the moment? She knew so little of how relationships worked outside her royal world. Where she came from, marriages were a more formal affair, contracts drawn up, affection not always playing a part in the pairing of the man and the woman. Then of course there were those people she heard about, kings who had mistresses and affairs on the side, just rumours she'd hear from her maids and the servants. She didn't want a marriage like that if she could help it.

She had rather limited experiences when it came to boys, men aside from her father or her father's friends. Sure she had some mates who were boys but she was generally discouraged from acting too familiar with any of them in case they got the wrong idea. The couples she knew, that her parents were friends with, all seemed somewhat destined to be together. Every time she heard one of their stories of how they met, like Aurora and Phillip, it always sounded like fate, if she could even believe in that, that two people were born  _destined_  for each other. As she became a teenager, hearing these stories again, she would roll her eyes, knowing they couldn't possibly have just fallen in love at first sight, first kiss, and that was it, that was  _true love._  It was difficult for her to grasp, having not ever been in love. This made her wonder if Killian had ever been in love, what he was like as someone in love, if he acted differently around her, if he looked at her the same way he did Emma the day he kissed her.

She suddenly felt a pang in her stomach and anger rising up in her at the thought of Killian looking at another girl that way. That look was meant for  _her_ , she was the woman in his life, in his  _bed_. His arms were currently wrapped around  _her_  and she got angry at the idea that it could be someone else who's shared these experiences with him.  _How dare they._

Killian stirred, shifting his weight on the mattress behind her and she realized she was gripping his hand a bit tightly. Her grip loosened on his hand and she let her muscles relax all at once to try to calm down. Why was she getting so worked up over fictional women in Killian's  _past_. She smirked at her own silliness and feeling Killian's body relax once it found a comfortable position.

This, what they were, or rather  _weren't_ , doing, this wasn't a relationship by any means. But it was  _something_. She had so many questions she wished to ask him, trying to confront him night after night by sleeping in his bed, hoping he'd wake her up in anger that she was invading his space. But he didn't. If anything, his refusal to confront her during the day, or rather, while they were both awake, just made her more confused about her standing with him.

She could and she couldn't understand why he distanced himself upon learning of her connection to King George. They both lived under his rule. Her status as a princess in his kingdom made her no more important than anyone else, except in name. Her father wasn't even related by blood to the king but merely adopted as such. King George, in fact, had no blood-related heir, so how could it matter to Killian so much that the king was 'technically' her grandfather?

If only he'd listen long enough for her to give an explanation of her family tree. Maybe it wouldn't even make a difference to him, maybe he was completely done with her, except in the early hours of morning when he allowed himself a few hours of comfort. She'd easily leave the royal life to be with him, but not without an explanation to her parents. If she  _were_  to renounce her position, not that it was much aside from her inheritance, she'd need to explain to her parents. She'd need to explain everything, really, but then they probably wouldn't let her ever leave the castle again, putting guards on her at all times. How could she ever return home?

-/-

Killian's avoidance of Emma had become impressive at this point. Once she realized he was doing everything in his power to not see her during the waking hours, she began to find things to do on the ship. She connected most easily with the servants on board, the women who did the laundry and mending, the cooking staff, the first aid area, she was familiar with all of them now.

She was used to being shuffled around by various staff in her castle, being taught to sew, mend, cook, anything that could enhance her appeal for a husband. It wasn't what her parents wanted for her, specifically, but it was the way of the court. Her parents  _did_  educated her in hunting, archery, fishing, swordfighting; more 'masculine' jobs left to a husband,  _both_  her mother and her father enforced her learning of these skills so she would be more well-rounded. But, none of these skills allowed her much use aboard a pirate ship.

After she had spent far too much time alone in Killian's quarters, she allowed herself to wander the ship, assuming it would be acceptable as the supposed wife of the captain. The dress she wore the day she left the ship and was captured by those men had been torn and in serious need of mending, but there were only so many things she packed with her, a sewing needle not among them. So, today, she set out to find both sewing necessities and perhaps some company.

With her nice dress needing mending, she wore the ratty servant's dress that she left the castle in, stolen from the servants' quarters of the castle. She had felt so awful about taking one of her maid's belongings that she had left a hefty sum of gold in place of the missing garment. Her stomach turned at the thought of home, but she did her best to shake off that feeling and proceed to the servant's quarters of the ship in search of tools for mending her dress.

Upon entering the servants' area, she encountered a large box with a crank on the front of it. Admittedly, she had never seen how the maids did laundry in the castle, nor did she have any notion as to how they went about cleaning clothes on the ship. She inspected the cranked machine for a moment, opening its door to discover it lined with soapy residue from its previous use. This must be it, but where were the tools for mending? She continued her search of the area, leaving her dress in an empty crate next to the machine, and venturing further into the depths of this unfamiliar part of the ship. Even if she couldn't find needles and thread, at least she could wash the filthy rags she had been wearing.

-/-

His clothes were soaked with sweat from working in the crow's nest most of the day and helping the crew with navigation. He head towards the servant's quarters where the laundry area was, only to find Emma perusing the area as well. She opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted her,

"I need to wash my clothes," he mumbled, walking briskly to the hand-cranked machine to begin the chore, avoiding her eye as she sat quietly in the corner on a small stool reading a book. He pulled off his shirt hastily and threw it on top of the washing machine, and left to get washing soap and his other unclean items.

When he came back into the laundry area, Emma was sitting on top of the washing machine wearing his shirt and it seemed like nothing else underneath. His teeth were set on edge, trying to gather the willpower to stay in the room without jumping on her. The shape of her body was visible through the thin, nearly see-through material of his black linen shirt. He hadn't realized it was so revealing until he saw it on her with her nipples were poking through the fabric. She had on that playful smile reserved for when she was up to something. He twitched beneath his tight leather pants, and threw his items into a basket next to the machine to distract himself for a brief moment before approaching her. He cleared his throat and looked at her,

"I believe you're wearing my shirt, love," he tried to say it without cocking his eyebrow and smiling slyly at her like he knew he was going to punish her for this later. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea but part of him couldn't help but flirt with her. All those night of wrestling with his impulse to touch her only to wake up in the morning to find himself wrapped around her had not been helping his attempts to restrain himself. Even his subconscious couldn't fight his feelings.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said tugging on the shirt as if to ask if he meant this shirt on her body, "I thought you left this here for me to wear while I cleaned my clothes." He looked down and noticed her things intermixed with his in the basket. Aside from horribly teasing him with this charade, the shirt seemed to give her a confidence he hadn't seen in her before, making her all the more desirable.

"Do you want me to take it off?" she teased, smiling coyly like she had no idea the effect she was having on him.

 _Yes._  He had to bite his tongue for a brief moment before answering.

"No, that shirt is quite dirty as well," he cleared his throat again to rid his mind of the thought of her taking it off in front of him, "I can fetch you something else to wear." He turned to leave, to exit this situation as soon as possible, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back in front of her and between her legs. Her arm snaked behind his bare back and he felt a tightening in his trousers. He wanted to get these pants off for more than the reason of them being filthy, but he was afraid of the consequences of taking that action. He gritted his teeth, trying to work up the courage to look at her with his shirt on again without letting his eyes wander to her breasts, or even lower.

He made a noise low in his throat when she used her arm to pull herself closer to the edge of the machine and in contact with the growing bulge in his pants. His hands fell at her sides, unable to cope with the idea of touching her skin, in fear of the sensations that would shoot directly to his throbbing cock. Her heels were playing along the backs of his thighs, threatening to wrap her legs around him and hold him captive against her. He was certain heat was emanating from his body, what with the state she was putting him in, but he couldn't move; all he could do was stare into her green orbs, mesmerised.

Her hand on his back was thumbing the hem of his leather pants, playing with the idea of sliding them lower down his hips, testing their tightness to his body. Likewise, Killian's fingers traced the hem of his shirt on her, as it fell above her mid-thigh. He was trying to resist the urge to slip a hand underneath the material to explore her bare skin beneath it. He was staring at her lips, wanting to launch himself on them, suck on them, bite them and he felt her fumbling with the laces of his pants. He couldn't let this happen but he couldn't stop her either. Thankfully her inability to tackle his laces only allowed her to cup him through the leather.

Even with the barriers of clothing between them, the tension melted when she touched him, eliciting groans of enjoyment, allowing her to take advantage of his open mouth. She took his lower lip between hers, nibbling and pulling on it until he lost control, needing to devour every bit of her. His lips bruising hers with urgency, sucking her upper lip to pull her into him, wanting to consume her. She gasped when he enveloped her mouth, allowing him entry into it with his tongue. He let out of whimper of pleasure when his tongue met hers, battling for pleasure in the other's mouth, and he groaned when she caught his tongue between her lips, sucking on it in pleasurable torture.

When he came up for air from their kiss, he found one of his hands fisting in her hair at the base of her neck and the other had bunched the fabric of her shirt above her waist. She jumped at his touch along the crease of her thigh, spreading her legs further apart so he could swipe his thumb along her clit. She whined into his mouth as he continued to rub his thumb against that pleasurable nub at an agonizingly slow pace. He felt her urgency, needing him closer to her, eliminating the space and clothes between them, but he mustered the willpower to pause.

"Not here, love," he whispered, pressing his lips against hers again, trying to slow them down. Then he heard the familiar tread of the crew coming below deck for dinner and he broke away. Her hand was still rubbing him through his pants and he cursed himself for even letting it get that far in the servants' quarters of all places. He pulled her shirt back down to cover herself and he gently removed her hand from him. Just then a servant walked in, stopping abruptly at the sight of their predicament, and cleared his throat,

"Captain, sir, I'm sorry to...ahm…" he cleared his throat again and gestured to what he had interrupted.

"That's alright. My wife seems to have run out of clean clothes that she has resorted to wearing...mine," he glanced at her sternly. She definitely can't wear his clothes ever again, nor could she sleep naked next to him.

"I just needed a needle and thread for mending my dress," she added quietly, like that was all she was doing.

"Ahm, Sam here can do it for you, love, and then I'm  _sure_  he'd be able to direct you towards the closest dress shop in the next port,"  _so you can stop wearing my shirt_. Sam smiled awkwardly at Emma and nodded curtly to Killian who was escorting Emma back to his room briskly.

Once in his room he shut the door and braced himself for having to face her again, still in his shirt, still relatively aroused.

"Put something else on, for gods' sake, lass!" he started rummaging through his cupboards for anything less revealing, even a shirt with thicker fabric. She smirked and started lifting the shirt to her waist before he cried out to stop her, throwing a blanket in her direction. The last thing he needed was to have the image of her naked in his head, it would make lying next to her every night more difficult than it already was.

After throwing the blanket he had turned back to face his closet, waiting for her to cover herself up, but also get that dirty shirt of his off her. The thought of her bathing popped into his mind and he gritted his teeth, not needing this added fuel to the fire already burning in him from their tryst earlier. He felt a piece of cloth hit his shoulder, which must have been his shirt.

"Are you decent?" he asked, afraid to turn around, afraid that if he saw her nude he might explode, unable to control himself any longer.

"Yes I have a blanket wrapped around me, it's quite stylish," she answered sardonically and he whipped around to pick up his dirty shirt off the floor, averting his eyes from her still, and rushed to the door.

"Tomorrow you're getting your  _own_  clothes," he shouted in the direction of the door as he opened it, leaving without a response from her.


	9. Ribbons and Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma buys some new clothes and learns a few new skills

Upon reaching the next port town, the servant Sam had directed her to the market, saying she could find whatever she desired in terms of clothing, clearly trying to get rid of her, having no clue as to what went into a woman’s wardrobe. Emma wandered through the stalls, stopping to examining little baubles and delighted to find fresh fruit at a stand nearby. She had to peruse the market for some time before she found the clothing section, attracted to one in specific with a bolt of brilliant blue silk flapping in the wind. She smiled at the colour, capturing the hem in her hand to examine it more closely.  
“You have a good eye,” the saleswoman of the stall appeared out of nowhere, pointing at the fabric she was holding, and Emma grinned back at her.  
“I give you good price,” the woman suggested, moving to take the bolt from her to cut for Emma, who frowned in response.  
“I was actually looking for a...a finished dress or two,” Emma began to explain, wondering how one even went about buying dresses when hers were always tailored to her liking and presented finished magically in her dressing room.  
“You see, I’ve been travelling on a ship and only have a few hours before I need to be back, so I was hoping to find a few dresses and perhaps undergarments already finished,” she asserted, almost whispering the word undergarments as if it were something uncouth. The saleswoman smiled at her knowingly and led her out of the market.  
“Come with me, we have more in the shop,” the woman said over her shoulder, leading Emma into a store around the corner full of gowns, dresses, cloth, buttons, ribbons, everything she could think of was jammed into this small store, wall to wall, stacks of garments up to the ceiling. Emma’s mouth hung open in wonder at all there was to choose from. Not sure where to start, she glanced around at the woman for direction only to see her joined with another stout woman behind a counter.   
They both eyed her like a doll they were about to dress up and whispering to each other on where to start first, what colours would work with her skin tone, and on and on. Both the women were dressed in simple brown frocks, faces round with similar bone structure, though the one stationed behind the counter was at least a foot taller than the woman who led her into the store.   
“This is my sister Margaret--Oh! Forgive me, dear, I forgot to introduce myself!” The saleswoman started at the recognition of her bad manners, “I’m Martha, darling, we’ll take care of whatever you need.”   
They both smiled at her expectantly, awaiting direction on what she was looking for, except she had no idea. Clothes were often made for her, seamstresses given a colour or an event and they just whipped something up. What was she looking for? Emma started to wander through the racks in the shop, feeling the softness of a velvet dress here, thumbing the hem of a silk garment there, no idea where to start. Revealing lace and silk numbers in the back caught her eye, looking beautifully soft and delicate, but sexy at the same time.   
Her mother would never let her wear such a thing, even though they were just sleeping clothes or undergarments that no one but her and her maid would ever see. She was now one of those women who had occasion to wear such things, a woman with a husband, or at least a man pretending to be her husband, who she was constantly trying to seduce.   
Seduce, she scoffed at herself even thinking that’s what she was doing. She had no idea how to seduce a man, a man who sailed the high seas and could have any woman he wanted. But, if her wearing his clothing, or rather, revealing clothing in front of him was going to get him to come out of his shell a bit around her, take action on what seemed like at least some attraction, then she was going to buy some new nightclothes.   
"Ooooh, so this is about a man?" Margaret asked, noticing the silk nightgowns Emma was eyeing.   
"A sailor, perhaps, on the ship you're travelling on?" Martha suggested knowingly, nudging Margaret, implying they had had their fair share of sailors in their time.   
Emma blushed, averting her eyes to stare at the lace trim she was rolling between her fingers,  
“The captain, actually,” she corrected them shyly. She was embarrassed to be revealing such personal details about her life, but she missed the company of her maid, dearly, and wished she had someone to confide in about her situation with Killian. These sisters were the closest she was going to get while living on board a pirate ship. The ladies ooed and ahhed in response to her interest in a captain, rushing in her direction to help her choose the best nightgown, carting her towards the fancier negligees.   
“We’re newly married,” Emma mumbled in response to their onslaught of questions about the captain, an answer that only elicited more questions from the women, buzzing around her like busy worker bees in effort to help her. They presented her with a collection of colours, necklines, dress lengths, asking her opinion on various things she had never thought much about. She was never too fascinated by fashion or clothing choice, making her easy to make dresses for, though her lack of interest often left her mother fuming at how unexcited she was acting for this ball or that dinner.   
After a number of ‘ums’ and ‘I’m not sures,’ the women paused in exasperation, wondering whatever it was they were doing wrong, what had they not shown her yet?   
“What does your husband like?” Margaret asked, hoping this would give them a better clue to what to have Emma try on, yet this only left her more unsure than before. She had no idea what he liked except that her wearing his shirt drove him mad with lust. It probably wasn’t the best idea for her to suggest menswear in place of the beautiful negligees they were holding in front of her.   
“He likes...the sea,” Emma said quite obviously, “and…” she glanced down at her chest as she often caught Killian doing when he was around her. Martha and Margaret caught onto what she was implying and jumped with ideas, grabbing hues of blue and green silk and pushing her into a dressing room.   
In addition to the gowns of blue and green they had her try on, they tossed in flesh-toned negligees, silk number lined with lace and cut lower than anything she’d ever worn. Emma settled on a variety of understated gowns that flowed much like the sails of a ship, dropping the pile of clothing onto the counter to purchase, overwhelmed at this point by Martha and Margaret’s help. In lieu of making many decisions, she bought more than she needed, including a few linen shirts for Killian thrown in, hoping he would appreciate the joke.   
“Now you have the clothes to have your Captain in bed, darling,” Margaret patted the pile of clothes on the counter as she priced them out and saw the flush that rose in Emma’s cheeks when she mentioned bedding the captain.   
“Are you nervous, darling?” Margaret asked more quietly to be sensitive to Emma’s pride, “Do you not think you can please your husband?”  
Emma felt the blood rush to her cheeks more now, unable to stop her face from showing exactly what she was feeling, but she waved a hand at Margaret to say she was being daft.   
“Noooo I- I know how to- I know what to do!” Emma tried to refute their assumptions about her virginal status but her stammering, in hopes to reassure them she knew the ways of men, was not so convincing. The sisters’ eyes lit up at the opportunity to tell Emma all about pleasing a man, including their trysts with sailors, traders, and soldiers in their day.   
Their reminiscing of their affairs made Emma think about the only man-- boy-- she’d been with in any sort of intimate fashion. Martha and Margaret asked what she did know about men, so she told them. She told them about the boy in her hometown, who would steal a ribbon from her hair and tie it onto a branch of the tree outside her bedroom window. Each time she ventured out of the castle and into town, the boy would chat with her, smile, make her laugh, and then she’d return home to see the ribbon she was wearing in her hair that day on the tree outside her window. It amazed her every time, not knowing how he was such an adept thief who would steal something from her, only to return it in a surprising fashion to make her smile.   
She never saw him steal the ribbon nor see him with it in his possession, but somehow she always knew those ribbons in the tree were from him. Eventually noticing the pattern, Emma returned from her trip to town one day, to sit under the tree outside her window, waiting for the young thief. He held her ribbon hostage, holding it high above his head making her reach for it, lean in to his body and he kissed her. In her efforts to get back what was hers, he caught her lips in his, wrapping his arms around her and tying the ribbon back into her hair. He always took her by surprise with his quick hands, making her smile with the tiniest things he could do that seemed almost like magic.   
After that first kiss, they would sneak off to the woods, to rooftops of the town, anywhere they could get away for time together, apart from everyone else. It was innocent, though, she was barely fifteen when they met, but to her it felt like love. They would share stories and dreams they had never told anyone else, feeling safe with one another to hold these secrets. She was accepting of his thievery because he did it to survive as an orphan living on the streets, except one day he stole her heart and never gave it back.   
He wanted her to run away with him to the coast, where he’d have the job as a trader in stolen goods. Emma knew he could do more and she tried to convince him to stay and would help him along. But, he was too proud to take her charity or her pity, though she tried to explain she was only trying to help, he began to resent her for being a princess, someone who was given everything from birth. So he stopped coming to the tree outside her window as much, unable to cope with her higher status, ending their dates together in arguments about the class system and politics, something Emma was never interested in.   
He talked more and more about leaving until one day he finally did, without saying a word to her. She’d check that tree outside her window every day in hopes of finding a sign from him that he returned, to perhaps give her a final farewell, but the tree remained bare. Once she noticed her tiara that stood on a table by her window was missing, she didn’t need a goodbye from that boy who was too proud to ask for help and too cowardice to tell her the truth. He had been using her to get to her wealth, close enough to steal from her to flee the town and never come back. After months of heartbreak, she asked one of the gardeners to cut down the tree and not plant anything in its place. She never told her mother about the tiara, too ashamed to admit what a fool she had been.   
Emma got lost in telling the story of the thieving boy so much that she forgot how they got onto the subject. They reminded her about pleasing the Captain and she blushed once again that she let the thoughts of a boy or man cloud her grip on the present day. She didn’t tell the sisters everything, though, needing to leave out details about the castle, about being a princess, having a gardener to cut a tree down for her. Even with these small details left out, the story was the same: a boy broke her heart and she still felt young and foolish about it.   
She felt young and foolish about Captain Killian Jones, but she was nearly an adult, buying adult clothing and undergarments that would make her mother blush and taking advice from women on how to be good in bed. It’s about time she grew up with how she felt about her memories as well, looking back on that thieving boy as an experience she had to have, to shape who she is today. So now, armed with alluring negligees and very detailed new knowledge about a man’s private parts, she set off back to the ship to please her husband. 

-/-  
Her talk with the Margaret and Martha in the shop empowered her and made her more curious than ever about the man who only showed his true feelings for her when he thought she was asleep. She was determined to bring the truth out of him, to confront him, so she was going to do something about this secret he was keeping from her tonight. The evening progressed as usual; she went to bed without him there, only to wake in the middle of the night to find his arm around her, body pressed against the back of hers. She smirked to herself over how predictable he had become and looked down at his arm around her waist, wondering if he noticed the new nightgown she had gotten today. It was a light rose-coloured silk with cream lace bordering the neckline and hem.   
The women of the shop guaranteed her this garment would make Killian unable to resist her. She hoped they were right, exhaling deeply before turning over to face Killian. His arm was now around her back and she was nearly nose to nose with him in the narrow bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she tried to make her breathing less audible, not wanting to wake him just yet. She took a moment to study the details of his face, noting the scar on his right cheek, seeing the glint of red in the scruff of his beard.   
Her hand reached up to touch his whiskers but she hesitated briefly, not wanting to disturb that peaceful look on his face. She hoped maybe if she touched him, his face would soften further, feel comfort from her. Her fingers lingered millimeters from his face, not sure where to start, before reaching up to rake his hair back from his face. Her fingers traced the outline of his ear, down his jawline, collarbone, tangled themselves in his chest hair, before following its trail down his torso.   
She stopped at the waistband of his briefs, holding her breath, daring herself to try something the women told her to do in the shop today. Her index finger inched under the band, while she kept her eyes locked on his closed eyelids, wondering at what point he would wake up. Her finger lifted the waistband slightly to allow the rest of her hand under his briefs and she exhaled like a weight was lifted. She was in. Still watching his eyes, she felt him stir against her, pulling her even closer to him with his arm around her back. Her hand started to tremble against his skin, but his body settled and he made a small humming sound of comfort.   
Emma tried to bite back the smile creeping across her face as her hand wandered further into his briefs through the tangle of hair to grab hold of his silken length. She slid her thumb along the underside of it, exploring the size of him as he started to stiffen underneath her hand. Grasping him more tightly, she pumped her hand up and down slowly, feeling how the muscle hardened under the soft skin in her hand. She watched as Killian’s face relaxed, mouth beginning to open in pleasure as he let out a small groan. She nearly jumped at the noise but recovered by gripping him more surely, pumping her hand up and down more quickly, eliciting a deeper moan from him. She was surprised by how he could feel so strong and solid in her hands and yet so delicate at the same time. The realization gave her a sense of empowerment over him, how intimate they were in this moment. Even every night sleeping next to each other was so intimate to her, a sign of trust between them at their most vulnerable.   
As her pace quickened so did her breath, and her arm muscle began to feel the burn of work. The heat emanating from his body only added to the fire between her legs, with her breath getting ragged with her growing arousal paired with his soft moans of pleasure. Suddenly his arm around her back moved downward, grabbing her ass and pulling her hips into his. Still watching his face for signs of consciousness, she saw his brow furrow, seeing the effect her hand’s work had on him and he gasped,  
“Oh Gods, Emma!”   
She nearly froze at the exclamation, sure that he was awake at this point. Maybe he was fooling her this whole time and woke up when she turned to face him. In desperate want for him to reach his climax and interest in feeding her own arousal, she nipped at him, taking his bottom lip between her teeth to nibble on. He responded likewise, hand grabbing her ass roughly, pulling her against him with a grunt of desire, crashing his lips against hers as if to devour her. She panted into his mouth, allowing his tongue entrance into her mouth, using her own to encircle it with stimulation, making him growl low in his throat.   
“Oh, Gods I’m almost there,” he murmured into her mouth, so Emma pushed him back a bit so she could get better leverage with her hand on him. He abruptly stopped kissing her and broke away from her, pushing himself back against the wall away from her. Her grip on him broke and his eyes widened at her.  
“What the hell are you doing?!” he hissed at her incredulous. She was flabbergasted, wondering whether him being ‘almost there’ was perhaps a bad thing, meaning she was supposed to stop? She squirmed back towards the edge of the bed, fixing the state of her negligee that had scrunched up to her hips in the heat of things.   
“What the hell am I doing? I thought you were awake and--” She made a gesture to his erection, which was still standing very much at attention to her. Her lips were still tingling from that kiss, arm starting to feel sore from the repetitive movement, which she now felt extremely embarrassed about. Did she do it all wrong? It seemed as if he was enjoying it. Killian opened his mouth to ask more questions but looked down at himself with what looked like regret that he had paused things.   
“You seemed to be enjoying it,” she mumbled after the silence between them had lasted far too long for her comfort. Killian’s mouth was still open but at a loss for words,  
“I--” he met her eye finally, then took in the vision of her body in the new nightgown, eyes widening in realization of what she had intended for this night.   
“I thought it was a dream…” Emma looked taken aback at this, almost offended. “A good dream but I didn’t…” Killian shook his head, trying to work out his thoughts.   
“Why are you even letting me stay here?” she demanded, feeling heat rising in her cheeks, getting hot with anger, “Why are you helping me? Sharing a bed with me if you’re not--” She stopped before she said it, before she asked why he wasn’t expressing his feelings towards her that she knew were there, hidden deep somewhere inside him, buried to protect himself from further heartbreak.   
“If I’m not what?” he pushed for her to finish her thought even though he knew what she was going to say.  
“If you’re just going to keep pretending like there’s nothing there, like you don’t feel what there is between us, if you’re just going to keep ignoring me, then why am I even here?”   
Every insecurity and question she had been asking herself, wondering what she was still doing on this ship, came bursting out of her one after another, pelting him with all the doubt she’s been feeling because he was being so reserved and closed off to what there was between them.   
“You can’t just start things in the laundry room and then ignore me the next day or try to pretend what I was just doing wasn’t something you enjoyed. I’m pretty sure I only hear those sounds come out of you when we’re…” she gestured again to being intimate with him, making the both of them blush at the fact that she brought up the sounds he makes.   
“So-- so what the hell?!” she shouted, getting annoyed that she had to explain this much about how hot and cold he was playing her, now thoroughly embarrassed and angry that she even made an effort like tonight.   
“I’m sorry to have made things so...unclear to you, lass,” he started, his eyes had softened, looking almost pained that he made her this confused, “I’ve really come to care for you, Emma, and I just didn’t want to get too close, fearing the day you do leave me to go home.”   
His admittance of feelings for her made her feel somewhat worse. At least if he didn’t like her she could cope with that, but thinking if he got too close to her he would get hurt just made her more upset. He was guarding himself from pain, not trusting that she’d stay, or at least not to leave him for good. Her chest tightened and she sighed, unable to meet his eyes, thinking it would hurt too much to see the pain in them paired with what he just said.   
“It was bad form, love, and I’m sorry. I’ve been...distant, because I can’t trust myself around you,” he wasn’t looking at Emma, but at his hand, as he smoothed the silk fabric over her hip slowly, displaying his lack of restraint when he allowed his feelings to show.   
“Emma, there are things you don’t know about-- about me, about the King-- but one day you’re going to leave this ship, and I’ll still be here, wanting you.” He locked eyes with her now and squeezed her thigh, then let go. “If I don’t get too close, maybe it won’t hurt so much when you go home.”  
He shimmied down the length of the bed to get out of it without crawling over her, without touching her again, pulled on his long coat, and left the room.


	10. New Lodgings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian can't fight his feelings for Emma anymore so they...........enjoy each other's company.

 She woke up to him next to her in bed the next morning, arm planted firmly around her middle, staking his claim on her. _He came back_. Despite him walking out, they had made some leeway the night before, after all, he was here now. He didn’t wake up early and pretend like he hadn’t slept wrapped around her all night, he was admitting to it now, letting her know he was okay with it being known. She supposed, for him, this was the equivalent of shouting from the rooftops.  

She wriggled against him, making sure each curve of her body was meeting his, that there was no space between them, and reveling in the feeling. His warm skin against hers, radiating heat out to her invitingly. She felt him kiss her hair a few times, slowly waking up, adjusting, before moving her hair off her neck and pecking along her nape. He was leaving a trail of soft kisses along her neck, rapidly increasing her heartrate with his lips. She hummed in approval of this form of wake up call, feeling warmth spreading through her limbs, igniting a fire low in her belly. 

“This is a surprise,” she murmured, addressing his radical change in morning routine, a smile spreading across her face shyly. 

“I couldn’t stay away, love, I can’t anymore,” he whispered gruffly, expelling hot breath against her skin and kissing the spot behind her ear. She could feel him smiling against her skin as he added his tongue to his treatment of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Tell me to stop,” he insisted, his breath against her skin tickling her neck and making her hair stand on end, “because if I kiss you one more time, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.”

The blood was pumping erratically between her legs, a feeling she had become more familiar with since meeting Captain Killian Jones, never realizing it could feel like her heart was pounding there instead of in her chest. His lips were hovering over her, waiting for a response, breath hot against her skin, only fueling the fire in her belly. She arched her back, leaning back against him and bringing her hand up to weave her fingers into his hair and give his head the little push it needed for his lips to meet her skin again. He let out a low growl against her as he continued mapping out her body with his mouth.

Then it felt like his hands were everywhere, slipping the strap of her chemise off her shoulder with a flick of his fingers, following with kisses down the spots of her shoulder the strap was hiding. Then he was pushing the silk fabric away from her breast, as his neck craned over her shoulder so his mouth could assist in stimulating her senses. Goosebumps sprang up across her skin from these exuberant advances, her mind becoming so clouded by his scent, that she closed her eyes. 

She moaned as his lips enclosed over her hardening nipple, unaware of how sensitive the small peak could be. His teeth grazed the skin lightly and her mouth fell agape, unable to respond to each movement he was making with his mouth, his lips, his tongue, his hands. She felt her breath hitching as he progressed along her body. The heat between her legs was pounding with need, feeling his similarly aroused state against her lower back, wishing she could move to return the favor for everything he was doing to her right now. But, she was frozen, anticipating the next sensation of newly found pleasure she never thought possible, allowing Killian to help her discover everything she didn’t know she could feel. 

All her blood was simply pulsing between her legs, pounding at what seemed like a deafening volume, screaming out to be touched, but unable to ask for attention. Killian’s hand was bunching the slippery fabric of her chemise between his fingers, trying to move it out of the way until his fingers reached the crevice where her legs were stacked on top of each other. She felt like she was wide open in every sense, allowing him access to anything he desired until his fingers danced along the crease of her legs, prodding her pubic bone, asking for furtherance. She straightened her top leg, opening invitation to his probing fingers that slipped between her slick folds and she exhaled with relief.  

“Gods, you are dripping, Emma,” he breathed against her breast, grazing his teeth along her nipple in increased arousal and grinding his hard cock between the back of her legs. Emma whimpered to the slow movement of his forefingers sliding up and down along her entrance, tantalizing her as his tongue flicked out to tease her nipple. He was using everything he had to please her, trapping her clit between his index and middle finger and rolling it back and forth in building her orgasm. She already felt overwhelmed with pleasure, crying out when he switched his fingers’ movements between her legs to tease her entrance again. 

He was testing her boundaries, seeing what she was comfortable with in awareness of her inexperience without making her feel silly. Slowly edging his middle finger into her, at first only slipping it up to the first knuckle, pumping it in and out, letting it in a little bit further each time. Emma’s breathing was getting heavier, sharply inhaling each time his fingers moved deeper inside of her. At the addition of a second finger only one knuckle deep, she yelped quietly and he stopped. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, removing his mouth from her skin, pulling back from her a bit. She nodded and he moved his hand to gently caress the side of her hip in comfort. 

“I can stop,” he whispered in serious concern for her, brow furrowing in distress, “I hear it can...hurt for some women.” He wasn’t pushing her in any way, just holding her comfortably where they paused, soothing her skin with his fingertips.

Emma rolled onto her back, opening her body up more to Killian, who wedged his leg between hers, hovering over her body, questioning her with his eyes. Everything seemed to slow down just then, and all she could hear was his breath against her, the quick rise and fall of his chest while he remained paused above her, waiting. Delicately, Emma brought her hand up to cup his face, rubbing her palm along his scruff for a brief moment and taking in everything in front of her, within her grasp. His body hummed with want and hesitation atop hers, unsure whether it was safe to go on. She tilted her head up and pulled him down onto her, taking his bottom lip between hers, sucking on it to taste the salt that seemed ever present on his skin, breathing him in. 

“Don’t,” she breathed against his lips with a smile and he jerked back. 

“I was going to say ‘don’t stop’,” she laughed and turned bright red “...I was just trying to pause for effect and--” she was rambling into his mouth, pulling him against her body, so she could feel his arousal between her legs, looking for friction in every possible touch. So what if she wasn’t smooth at this, he didn’t care, he took her for who she was. She felt laughter bubbling out of her, embarrassed by trying to be sexy, laughing at herself for even trying, laughing at him for being so respectful, smiling to herself uncontrollably over how purely joyous she was in this moment. She didn’t care if she made a fool of herself, he was still _here_ , and now he was laughing, too, her laughter contagious to him. 

They laughed so hard that he collapsed into her neck, laughing against her skin as he kissed along the underside of her jaw, trying to reclaim the mood. Emma’s leg wrapped around his hip so he could grind himself against her, albeit through his briefs, but she could feel the hard muscle rub against her in the most delightful way. She felt him groan against her neck, voicing muffled complaints about having to get to work above deck, but still clearly unable to get out of bed at the moment. She laughed and ran her fingers through his hair, playing with it as if they went through this routine every morning, and let out a sigh of contentment. 

“What can I do to help,” Emma asked against his hair, kissing the top of his head as he continued to anoint her neck with wet kisses. He propped himself up on an elbow, running his fingers lazily across the neckline of her chemise, which at this point, had been partially removed from her shoulders, droopily covering only one of Emma’s breasts. 

“You could start by putting on some clothes, love,” his lips closed over the exposed nipple and she gasped as his tongue flicked against it in varying directions, while his hand trailed back down between her legs. Emma dropped her head back in protest of the clothing option, rather enjoying Killian’s constant contact with the normally-covered portions of her body. Knowing she couldn’t reach the bulge in his briefs, she settled on tangling her hand in his hair, coaxing him to remain with his mouth attached to some part of her body indefinitely. 

“Is that really what you want me to do,” she dared Killian in a gravelly voice, feeling his erection press against her leg. His hands were searching over her body, groping for sensitive areas he hadn’t discovered yet. 

“Yes, because like this it’s so easy to just--” he groaned when his fingers delved back between her legs and Emma’s hand grasped his hair, “Gods you are still so wet.” 

Emma’s stomach tightened as pleasure encompassed her body, warmth rushing between her legs at his fingers’ every stroke. Her body tensed from the building sensations, while his fingers languidly played between her legs, seemingly in no rush. Emma felt like she was holding her breath, every time she tried to moan, a strangled croak would come out of her, like this ecstasy caused her regular functions to cease. His finger slipped in and out of her repeatedly, feeling the tightening of her walls each time as his thumb and forefinger tantalized her clit between them. 

As Emma began panting, whimpering when his finger found that rough spongy spot inside of her and kneaded at it until the cascade of pleasure poured over her. She let out of a small cry as her body twitched uncontrollably, as she could no longer feel her legs. The pleasure was buzzing through her like a current of electricity, sure that she must have been eliciting some sort of humming sound with all the stimulation coursing through her veins. Killian continued to rub inside of her, slowly massaging her through the orgasm, making sure she enjoyed every last bit of it, until her body stopped jerking in response. 

She was in a state of complete relaxation, her body felt like jelly, but she cupped Killian’s face and brought it to hers. 

“That was the most incredible I’ve ever felt. I’ve never…” she shook her head. She didn’t even know how to describe what she felt or how to thank him, so she kissed him, breathing him in and wrapping her leg around him once more in hopes of passing some of the pleasure vibrating through her body onto him. It was an all-encompassing kiss where she got lost in his mouth, hands clutching his shoulders to press him against her. She held onto him, savored the feeling of his body against hers, not wanting to let go. He smelled like fresh linen and spiced rum, with the air of the wet planks of wood that surrounded them. 

There was a catch in her breath when Killian’s hips rolled against hers, rubbing his bulge against her now hypersensitive clit, invigorating the vestige of her orgasm. The soft bristles of his weeks-old scruff brushed against her cheeks, enlivening her senses yet again. She was still breathless, thoughts scattered from sensory overload but still craving more. His fingers were still slowly tracing patterns along her inner thigh, her legs were still trembling as they regained feeling and solidity. He held her face with his other hand, tracing her jawline and rubbing a calloused thumb along her lower lip. She covered his hand with hers to hold it there as she tilted her head to kiss it. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice raspy and low against his palm. The rough, worn skin on his bronzed hands felt warm and reassuring. She felt so safe and small in his hands, so delicate and light in contrast to his grough manliness. But then she’d look into those impossibly blue eyes, with gold rings around his pupils that seemed to reflect the colour of her hair, and it was like seeing into his soul, into everything he really was and feeling right then. His eyes said everything he couldn’t. 

Then he rolled off her, planted feet solidly on the floor, and their idyllic scene dissipated into the dusty rays of sunlight shining through the portholes. Her heart sank, reliving the mornings she woke up without him there, without him acknowledging her, but he kept his hand on her stomach, smoothing it over the silk fabric. He smiled at her body, looking her over in his bed, but a glint of doubt flashed across his eyes.

“Don’t move,” he quavered, his face failing to hide the shifting emotions that mixed into the previous moment of bliss. Emma’s mouth curved upward, regardless of what she saw change in his face, and pulled a sheet over herself and sat up. He was quickly dressing, absently shoving his legs into his pants, buttoning his shirt while still watching her smile at him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him, leaning over the edge of the bed and reaching out her arm for him to come back. Her fingertips tilted his chin upwards for his mouth to meet hers and she inhaled his breath once more, taking him in for the last time this morning, and gently pressing her lips to his. He gripped the edge of the bed and balled some of the sheet in his hand, hanging onto her soft lips, inhaling her scent to take it with him throughout the day. He broke away only to give her one more peck before he turned and left.

-/-

Emma had fallen back asleep for an hour longer, waking up to find a note for her on the desk.

 

_We docked for a delivery. Meet me at_

_the inn next to the print shop at dusk._

_Perhaps you could wear that silk dress_

_you looked so radiant in this morning._

_Killian x_

 

She was beaming at the note, repeating the word ‘radiant’ out loud. She was wondering what he had planned, hoping the evening would have similar characteristics to their activities this morning. Her heart flipped in excitement, wondering what she would possibly do all day in such anticipation. She’d have to find ways to busy herself so she wouldn’t think about it too much, but not to expect anything either. 

As much as she’d enjoy fantasising of the possibilities, she had to keep her expectations in check. He was, after all, a pirate, not a prince. They wouldn’t be attending any balls together any time soon. Her stomach dropped again at the thought of home, of princes and ball gowns, and she looked around at where she had been living. What would her mother think? 

-/-

The innkeeper led her straight up to a room at the end of the hall on the second floor. The halls smelled a bit musty with ragged, fraying runners covering the floor leading to the door of their room. The innkeeper simply left her there at the door, neither giving her a key nor knocking on the door, so she just went in. 

It was a sizeable room for how small the inn looked on the outside, fitting a full sized bed, a small table with two chairs, and bedside tables on either side. Their room faced the port, open windows letting in the sea breeze and airing out the room. Killian was lounging on the bed with an arm propped behind his head and reading a thin book, which he promptly dropped when she stepped inside. He jumped up off the bed, seemingly buzzing with excitement over their accommodations for the evening, or happy that she was finally there; she wasn’t sure but hoped for the latter. He took her cloak off for her, slipping it off her shoulders, and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck making her heart skip. 

She was _nervous_. Staying at an inn, instead of on the ship, made it seem like there was an occasion for it, to spend money on such frivolity was rare for someone who already had a bed to sleep in. He pushed her hair off her neck, leaning in to kiss her the way he was doing this morning. The memory sparked a fire low in her stomach and her legs began to tremble in recollection of the pleasure his hands and mouth brought her earlier. She couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through her body, imagining what they could do in the comfort of a queen-sized bed. 

“Are we celebrating something?” Emma asked, noticing two dinner trays sitting on the small table in the corner of the room. Or were they hiding from someone? The thought briefly passed through her mind before she shook to dismiss it. _Don’t ruin this_. 

“Pay day,” Killian exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face as he paced across to the table to pop open a bottle of bubbly. She wanted to laugh at the idea of a pirate drinking sparkling wine but stifled the giggle that came out of her. He handed her a cup and they clinked glasses before setting down to eat.

-/-

After they had finished their meal, they were splayed out over the folded back bedspread, limbs entangled and Killian stroking her hair mindlessly. The breeze floating in over them made Emma feel calm and relaxed, enjoying the sea much more when she wasn’t living on it. Being in this bed with him, with more _space_ , made her really feel like they could breathe and let themselves go to some extent. 

“What’s this really for, Killian?” Emma asked him cautiously, tilting her head up to look at him. He glanced down at her and kissed her nose lightly. 

“It’s for you, love,” he answered in all seriousness, but Emma wasn’t convinced. She hit him lightly with the hand she had resting on his chest and he made mocking noises of pain. 

“It’s to make up for the way I had been treating you. I thought you-- we-- deserved a night together in a proper bed.” 

He kissed her eyebrow softly, lips barely touching her skin. 

“No interruptions.”

He kissed the corner of her eye.

“No crew.”

His lips met the apple of her cheek.

“Just us.”

He pressed his lips against hers before pulling back to meet her eye, mouth curving upwards into a smile. He was so sweet and gentle, cradling her in his arms, but just then she felt that spark of electricity run through her, that familiar rush of excitement she got from kissing him, being close to him. She cupped his face, scruff brushing against her palm, and took his lips between hers, pulling him towards her. She breathed in sharply, taking in the tang of the wine on his lips, the smell of the ocean coming off him and from the windows. She couldn’t breath enough of him in, she wanted to inhale him, become part of him.

Poking her tongue out between his lips, he opened his mouth and tilted his head so she could lean into him, take more of him in. She breathlessly moaned into his mouth when he massaged his rough tongue against hers and gripped his shoulders so he rolled on top of her. Their lips broke apart briefly, panting, before he thrust himself against her, creating friction between them through the barrier of their undergarments and delving into her mouth once more. 

Emma’s hands were tearing at his shirt, ripping it off of his body needily and running her hands up the toned muscles of his abdomen, fingers tangling in the coarse strands of his chest hair. He buried his face into her neck, kissing down to her chest and she gasped, digging her fingers into his skin. She rushed her hands to his buckle, fumbling with it before he stripped it off himself and rolled her over on top of him. She paused, straddled over him, her hair a mass of blonde locks around her face. She was sitting right on the bulge in his pants and rubbed herself over it, letting out a sigh at finally feeling friction where she needed it.

Her hands ran up his chest again, leaning over him grinding herself harder against him and he growled, pushing her chemise up, thumb finding her clitoris. She let out a moan, surprised at how quickly they were escalating this but also loving how goddamn _good_ it felt. Heat was coursing through her veins, pumping between her legs with want. She needed him, she wanted to feel him, _all of him_. His other hand was sliding her chemise up her torso and she helped him get it over her head. She was now stark naked on top of him, straddling the erection trapped beneath his briefs. 

Goosebumps raised on her skin from the exposure, the arousal, the overwhelming sensation of being naked and ready for him. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, breath heavy from exertion and anticipation. She slowly climbed off him, lying down to face him, and her hand snuck under his briefs, grasping him in her fist. He turned to face her and groaned as she stroked him, slow pumps of her fist up and down his length. His hand came over her bottom, pulling her into him, so Emma switched hands, using the other to pull his briefs down his legs. He kicked them off and climbed on top of her, forcing her to stop for a moment to look at him. She was panting and focused on his body, but he lifted up her chin to meet her eye, sinking his erection against her stomach, making the next step something she had to make a decision about. 

He rested his forehead against hers and smiled, letting out a deep sigh.

“Emma, you are so beautiful,” he breathed, trying to steady himself against her. She was shaking, making her seem more nervous than she actually felt, but she thought she felt him shaking as well. 

“You can still tell me to stop,” he reminded her of their exchange this morning and she smiled, remembering how gentle and caring he was for her. She reached up to pull his face against hers, sucking on his soft lips that were contrasted by the scratch of his scruff on her chin. It was a slow, leisurely kiss like the kind teenagers shared when it was as far as it was going to go, like they weren’t naked and pressing their arousal against each other. She loved kissing him, it filled her with warmth and comfort and heat. He started teasing her with his tongue, swiping it across the roof of her mouth, sucking on her tongue between his lips, and she grew hungry, hungry for him. 

“I don’t want you to stop,” she gasped breathlessly into his mouth as her legs spread open for him and she gripped him with her hand again, feeling the blood pumping through his cock under her hand, how hard he was for her. He rubbed his tip around her, wetting it, testing her readiness and she felt her legs involuntarily clench in anticipation and nerves. He guided himself in slowly, testing and stretching her like he did with his fingers that morning. She winced as he got in a few inches further, feeling him fill her up. 

“Are you alright?” he checked, watching her face as he was entering her and she nodded quickly, eyes squeezed shut momentarily. He gave a final push all the way in and she let out a hiccuped exclamation of surprise at the searing pain mingled with the rippling pleasure of him inside of her. She opened her eyes to meet his watching her with a ravenous look in his eye, and heat shot down in her stomach as he slowly pulled out, only to thrust in again slowly. 

_Oh, Gods._

Her toes curled and body tensed in response to his slow thrusts, stretching her to fit him, body tingling with the mixture of pleasure and pain. She dug her grip into his shoulders, unconsciously spreading her legs further to accommodate him between her. On a thrust he leaned in to trap her lips between his, hungrily pushing his tongue into her mouth and she bit at his lower lip when he pulled back. Once he got into a rhythm he added a finger to massage her clit. Her head became dizzy with overwhelming sensations of fullness, dull pain, pleasure, and stimulation. She clawed at his back, wrapping her legs tightly around him, inviting him in deeper. 

“Don’t stop,” she insisted as her head fell back, mouth falling open at the cascade of pleasure washing through her at his quickening pace. Her chest was heaving and he buried his face between her bosom, taking a nipple between his teeth to suck on. They were racing towards the finish line, grabbing frantically at each other in search for the release. Her hand squeezed his ass, pushing him into her as far as he could go, angling her hips up to reach, to make sure their apexes were pounding together. He was rubbing circles furiously over her clit when she felt her muscles tighten, feeling the wave of pleasure bursting out over her, and she let out a cry. The sensations were washing over her, massaging pleasure into every cell of her body, leaving her legs trembling. 

Killian continued to rub her, slowing his movements and still thrusting into her to finish himself off and carry her through her orgasm. Emma was gasping for breath, body buzzing with endorphins and muscles weak from exertion. After a few quick thrusts, Killian let out a groan, head falling against her shoulder as his body shuddered from his release. He collapsed on top of her, breathless. Emma’s legs were still twitching from the orgasm, spasming randomly as they both let their bodies relax and sink into each other.

“Are you alright?” He asked again, still letting himself slowly shrink inside her. She nodded, still breathless, and he rolled off of her, pulling her against him to nestle into his arms. Emma’s legs tangled in his, letting her body rest against his, both of them still trying to catch their breath. 

Eventually he got up from the bed with a groan, moving to get the wash basin and a cloth before laying back down next to Emma. He dipped the washcloth, letting it soak and squeezing it before bringing it up between Emma’s legs. Emma jerked with discomfort, embarrassed by this different type of intimacy of him cleaning her off, but she sighed with relief when the warm washcloth met her sore skin. His tenderness came out again, carefully pressing and dabbing the cloth against her. Emma watched his face as he did this, he was so concerned about being gentle but thorough that she felt herself easing her legs open for him. He went to dip the cloth again, looking up to check on her and she gave him a sly look, edging her legs open further, poking his chest with her foot.

He moved the wash basin to the side table and trailed his hands up her legs at an agonizingly slow pace. She held her breath, feeling a surge of blood pounding between her legs, getting dizzy from the smell of sex and sweat that emanated from them both. 

“Do you need me to kiss it to make it better?” his voice was thick with lust as he moved up her legs, leaving a trail of kisses from her ankles to her thighs. When his mouth reached her apex, he spread her legs out further with a hand on each one, then letting a thumb encircle her clit expertly, she jumped, realizing he didn’t intend to kiss her mouth.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to steady her voice through the nerves and fire spreading across her skin. He laughed, breath hot against her burning loins, and she tipped her head back, unable to bear anticipation any longer. She snapped her head back to look at him when he spoke against her skin.

“Trust me, lass,” he said, holding her gaze as he began to lick along her slit, eliciting surprised moans from Emma. His tongue swirled around her clit, sucking on it and teasing it with his lips. Emma bunched the sheets into her fists, needing to grab hold of something to stop herself from grabbing his hair and holding his mouth against her, because good _Gods_. He continued with long laps of his tongue pressing flat against her, tasting all of her before he plunged into her, fucking her with his tongue. Emma groaned loudly as he added a finger to massage her clit with his tongue inside her, and she grabbed his head, unable to help herself. He smiled against her slick folds, enjoying the sweet tangy taste of her in his mouth. 

“Gods you taste so good,” he mumbled against her wetness before slipping a finger inside of her and spelling out secret messages with his tongue on her clit. The noises she was making couldn’t keep up with his rapid movements and she was starting to get dizzy from the stimulation, letting her head loll back into the pillows. He added another finger and she fisted his hair, letting her legs spread wider for him as she whined for more. 

“Fuck,” she breathed, clutching onto the mattress, feeling her orgasm build more intensely than before. Her body was vibrating with sensation as he pumped his fingers into her, adding to the pleasure coursing through her core. He sucked on her clit, pulling and rolling it between his lips, curling his fingers inside her and her legs began to spasm. She cried out, clenching her thighs against his face, legs shaking and she was overcome with stimulation, only making Killian rub and suck harder, milking every last feeling out of her. Emma moaned and gasped for air as he slowed down, legs twitching against his face and he pulled his fingers out. 

“Oh, fuck, I can’t feel,” she gasped between gulps of air. Killian was kissing up her torso now, smiling with triumph. 

“Ugh, but I feel everything, Gods fucking hell,” her head tossed to the side to address Killian with this contradiction. He laughed against her chest, sliding his hands up her sides in appreciation of the curves of her body. She was still trembling, buzzing in overstimulation and tossing her head from side to side to stop herself from seeing stars. 

“Quite a mouth you’ve got there, princess,” he laughed, leaning in to kiss her, letting her taste herself on him as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She was still in a daze, moving her mouth slowly under his, getting into a rhythm with him again.

“Can’t you feel that buzzing? My body is...vibrating...can’t you feel that?” she asked, evidently shocked to the core from that orgasm. He just laughed and continued kissing her languidly.

Once the buzzing stopped, Killian rested his body comfortably against the side of hers. He was just holding her, looking up at the ceiling, and mindlessly tracing patterns on her bare back with his fingers. 

“Are _you_ alright?” she asked, wondering if perhaps he felt like it was a mistake to take her maidenhood if they weren’t actually married. She was never quite sure how men felt about devirginizing a woman, since they often slept with a number of women before marriage. Killian snorted at the question. 

“Aye, I’m doing quite well, lass,” he chuckled softly and glanced at her furtively before kissing her forehead and pulling her closer against him. 

Emma smiled at him, snuggling her head against his chest and resting her fingers comfortably in the thick of his chest hair. She could get used to this more spacious and _amorous_ version of their evenings together. It was the first time she felt truly enchanted by the idea of being his wife. They had had their wedding night, the consummation of their marriage rather, his whole crew thought it to be true, _believed_ them, so how far were they really from it being the truth? She hummed contently, getting lost in the rhythm of his heartbeat drumming against her ear reliably, and drifted off to sleep in his arms. 


	11. New Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian and Emma enjoy their 'honeymoon' but not without it's bumps in the road

He woke up to the sound of water splashing. It wasn’t the usual, familiar sound of the lapping waves against his ship, it was something else. He opened his eyes to recall they were in the inn, but Emma wasn’t in bed when he stretched out an arm for her. His hand patted the space of the bed where the outline of her form was pressed into the sheets only to find it empty. He picked up his head, looking for her casually from his horizontal position, and noticed a tub in the room. The soft drip of the water off her skin was the most inviting sound, promising him enjoyable comfort and warmth, further enticing him to accompany her.

“Aren’t you going to join me,” her voice reverberated throughout the room, flowing through him and down between his legs. Of course he was going to join her, just maybe not at such an extreme state of arousal. He sighed audibly, discarding any shame he might’ve had, and got out of bed.

“Aye, lass, that’s is all I’d like to do today,” he answered groggily, regarding her in the tub with interest. He had seen her, _all_ of her, last night, but he couldn’t have imagined how even more beautiful she’d be in the light of day. Her limbs were gleaming with soapy water that glossed over her skin making her look almost like she was shining, sparkling in the daylight. He smiled, enjoying just watching her move in the tub of water so elegantly.

Killian climbed into the tub quickly, chasing the warmth that he abandoned in the bed. He hummed contently as Emma slid between his legs and leaned her body against his chest. He kissed the side of her head, wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer to him. She smelled like lye and rose petals as his lips met her damp shoulder, a clean, refreshing scent hit him like a drug that he wanted more of, inhaling deeper. His lips were so faintly pressing against her skin as he traced the curve of her neck that she shivered, tickled by his ghosting lips.

“I have a feeling you have some ulterior motives for joining me in here,” Emma nearly choked on her words when he cupped her breast, tweaking her nipple between his fingers.

“Very astute, love,” he whispered in her ear before pulling on her earlobe with his teeth. The water plopped when he plunged his other arm beneath the surface, his fingers following the path of her torso, down between her legs. She jerked abruptly, unaware of his intentions and he laughed against her skin, teeth grazing along her shoulder, gripping her breast more firmly. The bathwater sloshed back and forth between them, setting a rhythm for his fingers to rub along her slit and she gasped. The wetness between her legs was slicker than the feeling of the water around them, letting his fingers glide easily inside her.

She arched her back against him and turned her head so her lips could meet his. She seemed hungry for more contact with him and he was glad to oblige, slipping his tongue inside her mouth, hot and urgent against hers.His fingers pushed deeper, rubbing against a more sensitive spot inside of her, and  Emma’s breath hitched as a moan escaped her throat, raw and low. Her teeth sank into his lower lip, urging him to continue, and her nails dug into his thigh, gripping onto him tightly in fear of slipping in the water surrounding them. Her firm grip on his upper legs allowed him to get the best angle inside of her, pumping his fingers against her most sensitive areas between her legs that she was soon trembling against him, ready to give way to the orgasm that was imminent.

He felt her stiffen as she broke away from his mouth, jaw dropping open to moan in ecstasy but only able to elicit a high-pitched noise that cracked out of her throat. Her back pushed against him, melding into him, sharing the intensity of her pleasure as it overtook her body. The water around them was thrashing to and fro, spilling over the sides of the tub as her legs spasmed at the peak of her euphoria. She whimpered when he slowed his fingers’ movement inside of her, bringing her down from her climax in slow circles of her clit, to bring out all that was left of her. Then her body collapsed against his chest, heavy and tired from the tension that had just flooded  so quickly through her. She was panting, chest rising and falling quickly, making small waves in the water as she caught her breath. He could feel the electricity that was running through her in the aftershock, that buzz on her skin that sizzled against him.

“Well good morning to you, too,” she said breathily with a tinge of sarcasm and surprise in her voice. She turned her neck again to kiss him slowly in thanks. Her lips were warm and swollen from roughly pushing against his just a few minutes before, but now he could bask in their delicate softness, memorize their texture under his tongue. Her arm came up around his neck to pull him down closer to her, so he was ensconced in her fresh scent of roses and the lust that had consumed them in their previous juncture. He inhaled deeply, taking all of her in in one last breath,

“I seem to have interrupted your bathing, quite rudely,” his voice was soft, still thick with sleep and now with want. He grinned at her soaking body intertwined in his, before noticing she had yet to wash her hair. He picked up the bar of soap and pitcher of warm water,

“I’ll help with your washing.”

Killian delicately gathered her golden locks in his hand and poured warm water over the crown of her head, letting the water run down her back and neck, dripping slowly off her body and back into the tub. He ran the soap through her hair with the lightest touch, letting the smell of roses wash over them both. He felt a calmness overcome him from tending to her, the morning light spilling out across the room, illuminating them in hues of orange and yellow. It was blissful to just sit there with her, wrapped around her and washing her hair with no other worries shrouding their happiness.

\-------

\-------

“How long do we have this room for?” she asked drowsily, her voice husky as she roused from their afternoon nap and stretching her limbs out across the bed.

“As long as we want,” he mumbled into her hair, not wishing to desert his comfortably warm retreat of unconsciousness, enjoying their laziness in their little inn room. Emma sat up against the pillows, prodding his arm that still lay lazily across her torso.

“How’s that? Last week we nearly ran out of rations,” Emma pointed out, now seemingly restless after waking, like people do when they see naps as a waste of a perfectly good afternoon you could be spending doing something productive. Killian groaned into his pillow, turning his face against the soft linen in hopes of shrouding the sun from his eyes and sleeping a little longer. He was not a fan of waking up, even if it was his second sleep of the day. On the other hand, he also didn’t want to tell Emma about where he got the money.

“The job, the errand I ran yesterday, before you got here,” he thought that sufficiently explained everything. Simple. He felt her body motion towards him continuing in his description of this job. He begrudgingly rolled himself over to face upwards and shimmied up the bed so his head was propped up against the pillow, and he glanced up at her quickly, trying to gauge her general mood. She was, in fact, rather hard to read, often disguising her face under the armour of a furrowed brow, which could indicate anything from anger to concern to genuine interest. He sighed, seeing no way out of what was going to be a very blunt description of his life as a pirate.

“There was an advert offering money in turn for information on your whereabouts,” he held his tongue between his teeth briefly before continuing, “so I steered them in the wrong direction, pointed them back towards the brothel that captured you a few weeks prior.” He braced himself for her response, having the very faintest of hopes that it would be a positive one. But, Emma was silent for longer than was comfortable for Killian, staring at her fingers rolling the hem of the sheet between them.

“So, this...I’m just…for your _profit_? ” The tone of her voice very quickly transformed into vicious anger at the end of the sentence, causing Killian to flinch ever so slightly before composing himself.

“It’s not like that, love” Killian tried to keep a steady voice but it came out shaky and cracked. He could see now what was going through her head, what she must think, but she had it all wrong. “I did this for you, so you wouldn’t be found by your parents. I thought this is what you _wanted_. ”

He did his best to hide the uncertainty at the end of his sentence, suddenly doubting her entire reasoning for even being on his ship, in his bed, sleeping with him. Of the two of them, he thought he had more of a right to feel betrayed if this wasn’t what she wanted, that she was playing him for her benefit, or for a joke, on a bet. The negative thoughts and situations echoed through his mind, yelling at him that everything was wrong and he couldn’t fool himself any longer. She was going to go home soon enough, why not now? He couldn’t bear to ask if he was even what she wanted.

“You think I wanted you to use me for my parents’ _wealth_. Right, because that ’s what people are always going to do!” Emma’s face was blotching red, flushed from anger or embarrassment, or both. She was already gathering the sheets around her, putting on her clothes and proceeding to pick up her things around the room. It all felt very surreal that she would even be leaving for such a ridiculous reason as him helping her. Or thinking he was helping her. Was he looking at this from the wrong angle?

"Is this what people are always going to do? Even if I marry a prince or a king, it will still be for status and money. This can't be how it works. _Love_ shouldn't work this way." She was muttering all of this to herself, pacing around the room as far from him as possible, but he could hear every word of her musings. His face dropped, feeling horrible that he made her even think this way or have to go through what she thought was his betrayal. _I'm on your side_. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her out of this state, but she looked like she was about to break into little pieces and crumble to the floor.

“For your wealth?!” He shook his head, incredulous, “Emma, I thought you wanted to be away from kings and castles. I simply directed the prince in the opposite direction so you had more time.”

There was a long beat of silence. The lack of response from Emma was unnerving, making him doubt himself even more. He knew he was doing the right thing, and it wasn’t for the money, though that was a nice reward. The doubt was spiraling down into the pit of his stomach, amplifying with each second of silence that passed. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Well if you’d like to go home, the prince is probably still in town. By all means, go.” He heard himself spout out these disgusted words of self-hatred and self-doubt and inability to handle the alternative; that this princess, this beautiful, incredible woman wanted to be with a scoundrel like him. He felt her stare on him but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. But, if she wanted to go, she would already be through the door. She was still standing by the small table they had had dinner at the night before, just staring at him. What is she waiting for?

“Prince?” her voice squeaked out the nearly inaudible word at him. Her tone had changed from one that was angry and hurt to one that was truly frightened. “What prince?”

He scratched behind his ear trying to think, trying to remember anything about the man he met the day before. He usually didn’t notice too many details about who was paying him, and he was far too preoccupied with the man believing him regarding Emma’s whereabouts, rather than who the man himself was. It didn’t really matter who had the false information about her, did it?

But then she was out the door, running down the steps of the inn, to look for the prince, presumably. So that was it? That’s how she was going to leave? He didn’t even want to get up, to go after her, to even bare looking at her face one more time if she was just going to turn away from him and flee. Maybe this is what she was good at, leaving, so he might as well let her.

She came back into the room an instant later, gasping for breath and shaking. She dropped her things onto the floor and ran to him in the bed, getting under the covers and curling into him hastily as if the touch of her body to his would instantly relieve her of her troubles. He instinctually wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer, like his arm could prevent her from ever walking out that door again. Her heart was beating rapidly against his chest, almost frighteningly so.

“Lass, what is it?” he whispered against her, shushing her and caressing her arm to calm her shaking body.

“Prince Philip is in the foyer, I saw him,” she mumbled as if Prince Philip could hear her from there. Killian was hesitant to respond, in fear of sending her out the door again.

"You're safe now. You're safe here," he kept whispering these assuring phrases against her hair and rocking her gently back and forth in his arms until she stopped shaking and could breathe. Once her heart slowed, he began playing with a strand of her hair, curling around his finger.

"Not every man is after your family's socioeconomic status," he murmured softly into her ear, his stubble tickling her cheek as his lips were so close to her skin he could almost taste her skin, "not all love is like that."

\-------

\-------

They spent two more days holed up in their small inn room, enjoying each other's company and solitude from the outside world. It was a better honeymoon than Emma could have ever dreamed of, despite the fact that they were never properly wed.

"Did we handfast? That day you declared our marriage before your crew and took my hand?" Emma was wondering out loud as her head rested on Killian's chest. It was one evening during those intimate periods of time after lovemaking, when a couple is more open to sharing secrets that they wouldn't otherwise divulge. She felt him stir under her cheek and take a deep breath of contemplation. The ritual of handfasting was more common among townspeople as a form of engagement to be married or a 'trial' marriage, but Emma had been thinking about how real their fake marriage might actually be.

"While we didn't perform any ritual of binding our hands, it's certainly possible to be construed that way..." Killian was likewise thinking aloud about this now that Emma had brought it up. His heart was pounding at an increasing pace under Emma's ear. Perhaps it wasn't the best subject to bring up.

"...would you want to be? Handfast, I mean?" he asked to Emma's surprise. They had muddled the lines of reality and rouse for so long that she had become unsure of what was in her heart, except that she never wanted to part from him, actually married or not.

"Yes, I think I would," she determined with as much forthrightness she could muster. The beating of Kilian's heart slowed at the sound of her statement.

\-------

\-------

After their brief escape from society, they returned to the ship refreshed and revitalized. Killian had told the crew bluntly that he meant to spend a proper honeymoon with Emma, so they didn’t gripe about waiting around. The influx of payment from Prince Philip did wonders to quiet the crew’s grumblings. 

The return to cramming Emma and himself comfortably into his narrow mattress after their luxurious week on a full bed was a rather rude awakening for them both. But, now that he and Emma were intimate, Killian had an easier time of falling asleep without having to worry about being found with his arm pulling her close to him in the night. Not having to hide his feelings was a blessing for the both of them, but it also allowed Emma a little more room for her curiosity to get to him and his past. They would lie awake in each other’s arms, quietly enjoying the small things they loved about one another; the soft brush of Emma’s hair against his shoulder or how she played with his chest hair when she was thinking about asking him something slightly too personal.

Night after night they would get closer, physically and emotionally, and night after night, Emma would pry further into Killian’s past to understand how he became who he is now. He didn’t know how she did it, make him feel so comfortable as to let her so far into his life just from sneaking onto his boat, but he eventually realized he was powerless against her. Perhaps it was because no one had ever bothered to ask about him as a person rather than as a soldier, a sailor, a captain, but her caring so much about him, _every part of him_ , made him fall even further for this treasure of a woman. 

“What made you stay on the Jolly Roger?” she asked one night, a few weeks after their honeymoon had passed and their relationship had solidified enough to give her the gall to ask something such as that. He knew she also implied that perhaps they could get a different ship, one where they had a bigger bed, but he let that slide. He had seen her look around his cabin, trying to figure out the purpose of each object in it and its meaning personally to Killian. Sometimes she looked at him like a puzzle to be figured out, but she hadn’t found that important cornerstone piece that would make it easier to place everything else. He cleared his throat before diving into this emotionally dark corner of his life, which he generally reserved for moments of self-loathing and nights that featured an immense amount of rum.

“I was my brother’s lieutenant, his first mate on his...final journey upon this ship,” he started and could already hear his voice faltering, “he was the captain of this vessel before I.” Emma had lifted her head from his chest so she could look at him when he was telling this story, but that just made it harder. He fixed his eyes on the ceiling as Emma’s hand grasped his on his chest, holding him there, anchoring him to the present so that he couldn’t be hurt by his past anymore. 

“I was schooled by the Royal Navy, they employed me, they…they gave me everything I have,” he paused and looked down at her for a brief moment to see what she was thinking, “it’s a painful reminder of-- of what happened here but also of everything they took away by sending us to that foreign land, and I couldn’t,” his voice broke, “I couldn’t let them take my ship away, too, Emma. The Jolly Roger is all I have left...it’s my home.” 

His voice was shaking in recollection of the many times he justified his residence upon the boat where his brother died, _living_ in the captain’s quarters even to himself. As hard as it was it was his only option, having only enough to maintain the ship and the crew upon it through pirating port towns. He didn’t expect Emma to understand the concept of loss to such a degree as he had experienced, which was one of the reasons he had kept this story in so long. 

“I understand the importance of home, Killian. Just know that this ship isn’t all you have in your life anymore,” Emma whispered as she nestled her head into the crook of his arm and snuggled more comfortably against his body, holding him tightly in reassurance that he was not alone. He sighed once against and kissed her hair, finally falling asleep knowing he wasn’t alone in the world anymore.

 

\-------

\-------

Emma wandered up to the deck looking for Killian, hoping to interest him in a midday break in the privacy of their quarters. As she reached the railing up to the helm, an overwhelming pulse of sickness shot through her, erupting the contents of her stomach over the side of the ship. She doubled over in disgust, shame, and cramping, clutching her stomach in search of the source of this sudden bout of illness.

The first mate rushed over to her, helping her back down below deck and towards her cabin. It all happened in a whirl of motions around her, her mind otherwise occupied with keeping herself from vomiting on Gary as he helped her. She vaguely heard him saying he’d inform Killian as she proceeded to get sick in the chamber pot as well. 

“Seasickness after being on the water for so long? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Killian spoke softly and she could hear the smile in his voice, his attempt at making light of the situation as he sat down beside her on the bed. Her head lolled out over the edge of the mattress, keeping the chamber pot within spitting distance as it were, and she groaned in disgust at her present condition. She felt a calloused thumb brush stray hair out of her face and stroke her temple lightly, a gesture that usually brought a smile on her face. He pressed his wrist to her forehead and furrowed his brow,

“No, no fever,” he was dismissing possible illnesses in his mind, she could feel him thinking, even in her state of delirium she was so aware of him. He brought a damp cloth to the back of her neck and the coolness brought a shiver down her spine. Killian pulled the cloth away and got up to toss the contents of the chamber pot out the window. She could hear the sound of the liquid hit the ocean, turning her stomach over in revulsion.

“Killian!” she reached her hand, asking for the chamber pot back, but she suppressed the upheaval in her stomach. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her shaking body, and Killian rushed back to her side, helping her sit up. Her chest was heaving in attempts to control her body’s revolt against her. Killian was rubbing small circles in her lower back and she felt her breath evening out, body shaking from emptiness.

He was cooing soothing words into her ear, but her mind was racing with possibilities of what was wrong, what could be causing this. Her gut was screaming the most obvious solution at her, which she fought with all she had.

\------

\------

        “Ack! What is this?!” Emma practically spat out the spoonful of stew she just put in her mouth.

        “It’s your favorite stew! I had the cook make it special since your stomach has been off,” Killian proclaimed, testing the meal for himself.

        “Tastes as good as always,” he mumbled through a mouthful with a lopsided smile.

        “No, something’s different,” Emma examined a spoonful more closely, sniffing for something she didn’t like, “must be some added spice or…” Emma shook her head, trying a new spoonful of the food only to make a sour face in response.

        “I can’t,” she concluded, setting her bowl down and pushing it in his direction, opting for some bread in replacement. Her stomach growled at the absence of food, having been empty for most of the day, but unable to keep anything down. She went to lie down on the bed to soothe the nausea rising in her throat from the smell of the stew.

        She lay silently in bed, ripping at pieces of bread in her hand to occupy her mind as Killian slurped his stew. Occupying her hands was a comfort, keeping her body functioning in effort to ignore the dizzying feeling of queasiness that clouded her brain. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her out of his periphery while eating, thoughts running through his mind of concern and possible causes of illness.

Eventually he got up from eating and approached the edge of the bed. Killian flicked a stray crumb of bread at her playfully, trying to get a smile on her face, and she scoffed at his behaviour.

        “You are such a child,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze focused on a spot on the ceiling, so her head would stop spinning.

        “I thought that’s what you loved about me,” he retorted as he climbed carefully onto the bed, crawling over her body so he was parallel above her. She attempted to suppress a smile springing across her face when he interrupted her staring contest with the spot on the ceiling. His arms were trembling against the mattress as he held his weight above her, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, essentially doing a push-up. Emma tossed a small piece of bread at his face above her, feigning disinterest in his advances, when, in reality, she felt that familiar pull low in her stomach that drew her legs apart in automatic reaction.

        “That you act like an adolescent?” she squirmed underneath him when his hand traced the curve of her hip, her nausea had subsided in response to his close presence.

        “Isn’t that what princesses look for?” he smirked. His hand was making it’s way under her skirts, his fingers dancing on the tops of her thighs in a tickling manner. Emma shuddered as his whiskers  grazed her jaw, his lips making contact with the pulse on her neck. HIs breath was hot on her skin, raising the hair on her arms and sending a shiver down her spine. He was electrifying her senses, waking them up and opening her eyes to the things he could do to her if provoked. Emma’s back arched up towards him and tipped her head back, giving in to his advances for the moment.

        “Why are you looking for more princesses to fall in love with you when you’ve already got one here in your bed?” she laughed, her words muffled from burying her face in his neck but then he jerked to a stop, her words registering in his mind. The words were floating between them, stuck in the thick of tension of them both wondering if what she said was the truth. She loved him. She had known that, known it before they made love, even, but to say it out loud made them both stiffen in apprehension. They both opened their mouths to say something but no sound came out. Killian inhaled deeply, something he often did when he was about to say something serious to anyone,

        “Now is _that_ who I ’ve got in my bed?” he mockingly studied her face for a moment, brushing her hair away from her brow to get a better look at her, “I can never be too certain about these things.” The furrow in his brow smoothed out as his face broke into a big smile and his eyes went soft with admiration at the woman in his bed. It was the most sincere expression she’d ever seen cross his face that it made her want to cry with joy because it was just for her. 


	12. Call off the Guards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma begins to doubt the strength of her relationship with Killian

She awoke at home, in her old queen-sized bed with fresh linen sheets just put on yesterday. She could smell the freshness of them like particles of fluffiness floating around her as if she were on a cloud rather than a bed. But it was in her room in the castle, not the familiarly narrow bed she had grown so accustomed to on the Jolly Roger. But, the pirate was still by her side in bed, as was a tiny infant between them. Emma’s sense of being on a cloud intensified with the image of this perfect family she was a part of.

“See, he’s just fine, love,” Killian whispered to her as they watched their baby’s arms squirm in his swathed blankets, “I told you you wouldn’t ‘crush him in your sleep.’” He laughed a low chuckle from his throat, trying to stay quiet as the babe slept, but she felt herself turn red for even admitting her fears about that the other night. She was so scared of being a parent, of doing something wrong or hurting the child without meaning to somehow. He kept telling her that parents had their baby between them in bed often after they are born and she wouldn’t roll over onto it and kill it during the night. Emma bit her lip at the memory of how silly she felt about that discussion and absolutely charmed that he would know such a thing. 

Killian reached over their baby to kiss Emma lightly on the forehead, his thumb caresses the apple of her cheek as he did so, and she smiled. It felt so right being back home with Killian there, with their child, having the help of the castle staff to attend to their every need. Even with the maids’ help, she felt exhausted, tiredness stretching through and weakening every muscle in her body. What she wouldn’t give for a few more hours of sleep in this heavenly bed with Killian’s arms around her. He was her security blanket in adulthood now, protecting her through the night, fighting for her in arguments with her parents, not that it happened often, but she never felt comfortable without him by her side now. 

Emma heard her mother’s voice float through the echoing walls of the castle, approaching their room to check in on everything. 

“Daphne, is Emma up?” she heard her mother ask a maid out in the hallway behind Emma’s closed door. Emma felt her body recoil, wanting to sink back into the seductive veil of unconsciousness and hide from the morning’s responsibilities. She felt Killian’s arm reach out to her hip, bracing themselves against what new problem they’d have to deal with this morning. 

“Emma, I just came in to--” her mother let herself into the room, charging in with some news needed to be shared before stopping at the sight of Killian in her bed. She hadn’t grown accustomed to him yet, or rather the idea of any man being in Emma’s childhood bed with her. 

“What is he doing here?” Snow sneered at Killian, who promptly sat up and covered himself with the sheets further, as if the sight of his bare chest were offensive to anyone. Emma instinctively swaddled their baby and put a protective arm across Killian in his defense. 

“Guards!” Snow shouted out. The baby woke up and began wailing in panic at the sound of raised voices and Emma began to rock him in her arms. Killian got up to put clothes on, trying to be respectful of Emma’s family while they stayed here. 

David followed closely behind Snow into Emma’s bedroom. _Great_. 

“What are you doing here?” David shouted at Killian and unsheathed his sword from his belt. Emma would scream if she weren’t holding the baby. 

“Daddy what are you doing?” Emma tried to keep her voice level but the notes of panic and anger were solid in her throat. 

“Emma stay back, protect the baby!” Her father was pacing in a semicircle around Killian, waiting to attack when the guards came in.

“Call off the guards! Mom, Dad, tell them who Killian is!” Emma was hysterical crying out to her parents over the baby’s wailing. 

The guards seized a half-clothed Killian by the arms, dragging him out of the room. He wasn’t fighting them off, not wanting to be further injured by them if he struggled. 

“He’s a pirate, a thief, Emma. We can’t have him here,” Snow explained stoically, approaching Emma to take the baby from her but Emma pulled away. 

“He’s my _husband_ , Mom, I love him!” she was screaming in her mother’s face, clutching onto the bundled baby as her only connection to Killian at the moment. 

“A princess can’t love a piece of scum pirate that you are,” David spewed at her as he sheathed his sword, dubbing the room safe now that Killian was being carted off. 

“He must be hanged immediately,” David shouted out to the guards with these instructions. Emma screamed once more, bursting into tears as she collapsed onto the floor in a heap. She continued screaming no as she watched Killian being hauled out of the room, probably the last time she’d see him before being hanged the next morning in the main square. 

“Emma!” someone was shaking her shoulder to snap out of it, to stop crying and screaming. It was Killian shouting her name over and over again, so much so that it felt like his pained voice was echoing in her head. No, _no_. 

“Emma!” his voice got louder until she opened her eyes and it was dark. Killian was shaking her to wake up, his face panic-stricken and weary looking at hers. Emma gasped, realizing they were back on the Jolly Roger in his bed, in his quarters, safe. Her cheeks were wet with tears and he throat was sore. 

“It was just a dream, love. Its okay, you’re safe now,” he pulled her to him, hugged her against his chest and kept whispering reassurances to her. She was still whimpering in fear of the dream as it drifted out of her memory. She could only remember small details of what the nightmare entailed as reality sunk in around her and the dream slipped from her grasp, fading into the night. All she felt now was the fear of losing Killian, of having her life with him ripped away from her in an instant by cruel people who didn’t understand who he really was.

“You were-- they were--” she was trying to describe what she saw in her dream but it was gone, only the pain of its memory was left in its wake. Emma climbed out of bed, out of Killian’s arms, and pulled on her cloak. She was still breathless from the nightmare, not able to cope with the images it presented to her in such a twisted way.

“I need some air,” she mumbled as she slipped on her shoes and ventured out to the deck. 

Emma was leaning against a railing on the bow of the ship, breathing in the salty air and taking in the mysterious and dark waters that surrounded her. She heard Killian’s steps up to the deck to join her, to make sure she was alright, but she didn’t turn when he approached her. He put his arms on either side of her grasp on the railing, knowing that the presence of his body around her made her feel safe. 

“It’s quite dark up here with no moon tonight,” Killian observed, trying to make light conversation to distract her mind from whatever she saw in her sleep. But the observation jolted something inside Emma, reminding her of something she tracked along the phases of the moon. 

“There was a full moon our first night at the inn,” Emma pretending to be joining on the simple conversation about the stars around them, while her brain calculated what it really meant. 

“Aye, and one two weeks past,” Killian’s voice was cautioned, like he could see Emma’s ulterior motive for conversation in her head. Conversation about how he navigated his ship through the stars had never interested her in the past, so he knew something was up if she was interested in it now. She could feel the lightest brush of his arms against hers, urging her to open up to him and tell him what was wrong, but she knew he wouldn’t force the subject. Emma’s shoulders hunched over, further hiding her every expression from his view, and sighed. Her whole body felt heavy all the sudden, like she couldn't hold herself up any longer. 

“I’m pregnant, then,” she stated matter-of-factly, as if she were saying what day of the week it was. Killian’s arm pulled at hers to turn around so he could search her face for assurance, to mirror his reaction to hers, to know if this was a good thing for her or not, but she had no idea how she felt. Suddenly the wide open sea in the dark of night seemed haunting and threatening to her, like it would eat her alive at any moment, swallow her whole and leave no trace that she ever existed. She was overwhelmed by the feeling, sensing her legs going weak as she began to collapse. She felt Killian's arms wrap around her quickly, pulling her body his for support. She gripped his arm in turn, to hang on and steady herself while she leaned heavily on him. 

“Are you sure?” the automatic male response shot out of him faster than she was sure he meant to reply. Emma rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs,

“If you can navigate by the stars, I can track my monthly by the phases of the moon,” she reasoned, really preferring not to discuss her period with her lover, ever, but if there were ever a time to try to discuss it with him, it was now. 

“Emma, that’s-- I’m ecstatic, aren’t you?” He was beaming at her, face lit up by the stars on this moonless night, hoping the joy in his face would be reflected in hers, but all Emma could think of was her mother. 

She remembered a conversation she had with her mother years earlier, when her naive self declared she wasn’t having children, that childbirth looked far too painful to go through and she didn’t think she’d be a good mother anyway. Snow laughed and told her she’d change her mind. Emma was Snow’s only daughter and her eldest child, she had to give her grandchildren. Emma countered that point by saying her brothers’ wives would give Snow grandchildren just fine, but Snow shook her head, saying she wanted grandchildren from her only daughter, that they would be special and mean more to her than children by women she didn’t raise. 

As time went on, Emma’s interests in children progressively grew from interactions with her nieces and nephews and the prospect of marriage became more and more real to her life. It wasn’t a duty or a responsibility she felt to her mother, but as she grew up, she understood her desire for children and a family of her own, and for her parents to be a part of this new family she would create. A smile crept across Emma’s face as reality sank in; she was going to give her mother the grandchild she always wanted. Emma turned in Killian’s arms to finally face him.

“Yeah,” her voice was choked so she cleared it, speaking again with certainty, “yeah, I’m happy,” she whispered as she took his face between her hands to pull him down for a gentle kiss. He pulled her close against him, almost as if he was afraid she’d blow away if he let go. 

They returned to their cabin and made love slowly and quietly, knowing neither of them would be the same soon enough, as if one of them were heading off into battle and wouldn’t see the other for a long, long time. That’s how Emma felt in the light of her news, so she savored every touch of her skin to his, holding onto him for dear life like she never wanted their bodies to part. She knew as long as their bodies were joined, she was okay, but once it was over, and they lay entangled together gasping for breath in the afterglow of pleasure, she felt the inkling fear creep over her body. The fear strangled her, wrapping around her like a vise she couldn’t escape no matter how hard she tried, that eventually she’d have to look it in the eye and face the truth: she had to go home. 

\----

\----

She laid awake, unable to sleep from all the scenarios running through her head and her conscious screaming at her to make a choice. Surely Killian must know the dangers of having a pregnant woman on board a ship, let alone a pirate ship. How could he not be thinking about this, too? How come he’s not lying awake in panic about her health and safety? Emma almost wanted to nudge him awake so he could sit here and stew in these dreadful feelings with her, just so she wasn’t alone in her thought process. It wasn’t that she wanted his opinion, per se, she just needed assurance that she was doing the right thing, doing what was best for the baby. It was his baby, after all. 

She was sitting up in bed, leaning on her elbow and watching him sleep. He was so peaceful when he wasn’t constantly thinking, furrowing his brow in concentration and hunching his shoulders with responsibility. She followed the muscular curve in his arm that was draped over her body still. Sometimes he looked so beautiful she wanted to touch him just to assure herself he was real, actually sleeping next to her, this man chose to have her at his side. No, she couldn’t wake him. She turned over onto her back and stared at the ceiling, wishing her mind could be blank so she could rest. She felt the Killian's arm pull her closer to him as if nudging her to join him in his deep slumber. She was still amused that he looked for her and needed her close, even in his sleep. 

"What's troubling you, love?" Killian mumbled from his pillow, uninterested in committing to fully upright state but clearly able to feel the tension that plagued Emma. How did he do that? Read her so well, even half asleep? Emma grunted out a non-response in hopes that she wouldn't have to talk about this right now, in the afterglow of their good news. She didn't want to ruin it for him, he didn't deserve that. 

"When I saw Uncle-- Prince Phillip at the inn I was terrified..." Was she really going to explain this, say all of this now?

"I know you were shaking like a leaf," Killian turned his head in the pillow to face her and propped himself up. His eyelids drooping with tiredness but willing themselves to stay open to listen to her. 

"I was so afraid he'd see me and take me home without question, right then and there, and it was horrible...to think that my family could find me and just return me home like it was nothing, like my escape from home didn't happen and my time away didn't change me or make a difference..." 

Emma didn't even know what she was saying or explaining but the words were just pouring out of her in a stream of consciousness that had been running through her head since that day, since she came so close to being taken back. 

"They wouldn't even ask, you know, about where I was or why...because my mom did the same thing-- running away ...they would just accept it and move on...but with the baby now..." Emma felt Killian's arm around her tighten, pressing his fingers into her side, bracing himself for what would come next, or perhaps he was angry at her parents for not caring.

"And is that what you want? To go home and forget this ever happened? Raise our child as a bastard whose father wasn't honorable enough to even stick around?" His voice was cold and distant, like he had been expecting this but never imagined it would actually happen. It almost sounded like he knew how often these things happen. He never told her where his parents were or who they were or what happened to them and perhaps this is exactly why. Emma jerked in reaction to his assumption and sat up to look at him.

"No! What-- _no_. I'm just saying...if Phillip had seen me at the inn, he would have taken me home without hesitation and I probably would never see you again. That's why I was so terrified, because I was on the verge of losing you forever," Emma looked up into his eyes. The tears in them glinted like stars reflecting in the sea. She couldn't bear the idea of leaving the ship, leaving him, but it seemed like it was necessary. 

"Now if you went home, on _your_ terms, it would be different?" His hand slid across her belly, but she could tell his voice was still apprehensive towards the idea. She didn't know if returning home would ever be on her terms, she might still feel trapped in the castle, trapped in that lifestyle, but was that what's best now? She couldn't distinguish between what she wanted and what the safest situation would be. Of course she didn't want to go home, to have to explain everything and explain Killian and...no she didn't want that at all. But if they wanted to keep Emma and the baby safe and healthy, she couldn't stay on the Jolly Roger. 

They sat with a long silence between them, tension coursing between them them taught and thick in the air. It seems they are at a stalemate and now they were playing the game of who would admit the truth first. Emma glanced down at his hand on her stomach and she covered his hand with hers. 

"Perhaps my family can grant you pardon," even as the words came out of her mouth she knew them to be impossible. Emma was low on the line of royalty with diplomatic pull of that kind. If her parents knew him as she did, knew him to be a good, honorable man who simply detoured into a pirate's life for his own survival, they would understand. But her own voice echoed in her head from her dream ' _Mom, Dad, tell them who Killian is'_ and she feared that they may never know the man she loves. 

"If you go," he gritted his teeth, not even wanting to say it, "will I ever be able to see you again?" Emma's heartbeat jumped into her throat at the notion, and she could feel the blood draining from her face. She'd rather risk the danger of a pirate's life than abandon him, but she wasn't thinking just for herself anymore. His head dropped down against her shoulder, expelling hot air into her skin. She could feel how tense and stiff his body was. He held his breath, waiting for a response. Emma didn't know the answer. Killian sat up, clearly irritated and holding tension in his shoulders. Emma reached to massage her fingers into the back of his neck, to provide some sort of relief to him. His face relaxed, momentarily lost in her touch, but then he snapped back into their present predicament. 

"And what of the child? Is he just supposed to grow up without a father?" He was exhaling deeply out of nose, nostrils flaring like an angry bull. If this was his attempt at remaining calm it wasn't working very well. The more questions that Emma didn't have the answers to, the more uncertain she became. 

Surely her parents would keep the father of her child from her just because he defied the king, would they? She, of course, didn't know the extent of Killian's disloyalty to the crown, but for the situation to be irreversible was beyond her scope of thinking. Perhaps that was a fault if her upbringing, always being able to get what she wanted, generally without question of problem. Except of course a marriage based in love. Emma paused in thought, realizing in some way, she, too, had defied the king's wishes by fleeing her arranged marriage. It made her realize that she was better suited to Killian, not just from simply choosing his ship to escape on, but in their mistrust of authority and desire to live by their own rules. She wondered how she did not realize this sooner, after all his slights at the mention of the crown. It's also what connected her parents and what made them fall in love. She didn't know how understanding they might be at first, considering how age and experience has changed them, but surely she could present such parallel circumstances, to remind them of their original views when they were her age. She could _get_ them to understand _._

Something inside of her kept bringing her back to home, to her parents, pointing her towards them as a solution. But she didn't know how, she had to just trust her gut. 

Emma took Killian's face in her hands, pulling him towards her so they were eye to eye. 

"You _will_ know your child and you _will_ see me again," as she made this promise to him, she was also willing herself to make it possible, "I will find a way."

"Emma, I don't think you understand—” Killian started, his expression clearly wary of her coercion abilities regarding her parents. His hand was still on her stomach, but she felt his hand hesitate briefly as if he was thinking of pulling away. 

"I know my parents, Killian, and they believe in love more than anyone else in all the realms," she gave him a knowing glance filled with confidence about the situation. She didn't want to let it show the doubt she felt in the pit of her stomach. The doubt that broiled and writhed inside of her and built up each moment he could've taken to declare his love for her and hasn't, each missed opportunity that could've solidified their relationship further. She didn't want to leave without knowing for sure, but as the doubt gripped her further, it almost became a driving force to leave, like going home wasn't only safest for the child, but for her heart as well.

Her mention of love sat in the air between them like a time bomb ticking away the seconds he still hadn't said it. She couldn't make it an ultimatum, she couldn't allow it to become a threat, but right now it was. Emma gulped down the lump of doubt building in her throat and continued to tell him about how their interests mirrored her parents' when they first met, Emma tightened her hands into fists of the sheets as she left out the part about how she was telling a love story, because Emma couldn't speak for Killian in this regard. But their parallel storyline was her subtle way of asking _have we fallen in love?_

_Because I still don't know._

She felt a flush come across her face turning it red. The uncertainty made her feel weak, made her feel pathetic that so much of her life right now was riding on this one thing her fake husband hasn't proclaimed to her yet. Sometimes she felt so goddamn stupid that she's even still on this pirate ship. She didn't like relying on other people in order to make decisions about her _own_ life. This isn't what she ran away for. She wanted to just _ask._ She wanted to scream at him to _just tell her._ She would do anything to know, to know how he felt, to know what he was thinking, to ask what he did to become a pirate, to be sure that if she left, that he would _want_ to see her again or if this was just about not abandoning their child. Maybe he felt a responsibility towards knowing this child as his parents didn't know him. Maybe this wasn't about her at all. 

 _Because I still don't_ know _._

"So, I'll convince them. It will be okay," she told him. And she told herself. 

"I'll be able to walk into your castle without you having to call off the guards?" Killian mused. He was trying to be casual, trying to imagine the situation in his head as plausible, but she could see he wasn't convinced. 

_Call off the guards!_

The scene from her dream flashed in her mind. Emma shook her head like a bug was buzzing around her face. Her throat was dry, hoarse with the memory of how she felt after screaming that.

"Don't you trust me?" She asked, calling his bluff, looking for confirmation of his feelings, anything to reassure her. 

"Of course I do, darling," his hand came up to rub her arm soothingly and the prickle of doubt crawled up her spine, hoping he could continue his sentence, "I just want to be sure of this plan of yours."

_So do I._

She smiled a tight-lipped grin and made an amused sound of assurance. Killian cleared his throat. They were both so uncomfortable around each other that it left a bad taste in Emma's mouth. Like they were both hiding something from the other but were too afraid to say what. They were tiptoeing around each other with pleasantries, when she could feel they both were itching to ask the real questions. They were both too stubborn to give in. 

"How long would you be gone?" 

"Well--" had she not explained that part? Her eyes met his bashfully, "I thought you would come to the castle," Emma made a movement with her hand that she hoped would finish the sentence for her but Killian was still waiting for a straightforward answer, "to stay."

Killian stopped, his body stiffened as if he were stunned by a gun. His face lost all color, even in the pitch black she could tell he had gone pale, but then he threw up his arms angrily and blood rushed to his face again. His mouth gaped open to shout, to object, but no sound came out and he sat there, in their bed, dumbfounded. His face made Emma feel like he was already screaming at her, like he had been yelling for hours at her about this. 

"How can we raise a baby on a _pirate ship_ , Killian?!" She shouted in his face. Hers was turning bright red and hot with anger like they had been arguing about this for years and she just jumped into the middle of the fight. 

"I haven't seen you have any trouble with it," he snapped back, not missing a beat. 

"Killian!" 

"Emma!" His voice rose above hers in imitation. 

"What do you expect me to do?" Emma felt her chin grow weak with all the built-up emotions of their discussion, she couldn't break down now. _Not now._

"Well I expect you to leave just like everyone else does! Which is _exactly_ what you're bloody doing!" 

"That's not fair," Emma cried out. She could feel her eyes watering, her vision getting blurry with tears, "this is for the safety of our _child_!

"And how is _that_ bleeding fair, Emma?!" He bit his lip, eyes going glassy. He had backed his body as far away from her as he could without getting off the mattress. His back was stiff against the wall like he was trying to push himself through it. Emma was gripping the edge of the bed so tight that her fingers started to throb. She feared if she let go she'd fall off and never get up again. 

His accent got thicker when he was emotional or angry. Emma could hear it, how the vowels wrapped around his tongue and got stuck in his mouth just a little bit longer than usual. She wished she could just sit and listen to it like this sometimes, like she was seeing a different version of him, the _true_ version of him. But now was not the time to marvel at how his mouth formed words, not when they were screaming at each other in anguish. 

Even though they only shouted for a short time, Emma was out of breath, chest heaving to bring more oxygen into her body, muscles weak with exertion even though she hadn't moved from her spot at the edge of the bed. 

"I'm trying to do what's best for the baby," she said quietly, squeezing out each word like it was the last one she'd ever be able to say. Speaking seemed so difficult right now when all she wanted to do was run and scream and cry until she had nothing left inside of her to give. 

"And you think leaving its father is what's best," Killian's voice sounded ragged, like the words were scraping his esophagus on their way out, each word more painful than the next. 

"I could never ask you to leave this ship," the memory of him telling her why he stayed on the Jolly Roger made her chest ache, "it's your home."

"It's not all I have left anymore," he had been looking down, staring at her stomach while he caught his breath from yelling, but now he looked up, his eyes shining with tears, "but it will be if you go."


	13. Bright Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian and Emma fight about her leaving and struggle through mixed emotions

\-----//---------//-----

_"I could never ask you to leave this ship," the memory of him telling her why he stayed on the Jolly Roger made her chest ache, "it's your home."_

_"It's not all I have left anymore," he had been looking down, staring at her stomach while he caught his breath from yelling, but now he looked up, his eyes shining with tears, "but it will be if you go."_

\-----//---------//-----

“I never _asked_ you to sneak onto my ship!” blood was pumping in his ears and he could feel how hot his face had become from all the yelling, but he couldn’t reel in his emotions back in now. 

“What, so you wish you never met me?” she had been yelling, too, but at this her voice quieted and he could hear it faltering when she asked that question, emotion boiling in her throat. 

“No!” he bellowed, “I wish you had run away from home sooner! And met me when I was a good man, before I lost everything, before I became this broken shell of a man I am now, a man no longer worthy to even enter a castle to meet your parents without being arrested!” he was throwing his arms up in emphasis at how ridiculous his entire life was. He felt like a joke. He turned his back to her, not wanting her to see the tears of frustration and failure springing into his eyes. His hand instinctively went to his hip for his flask and just the idea that alcohol was a solution to gloss over his problems now made him angrier. He threw the flask against the bookcase and it bounced off the wood, landing with a soft ‘clunk’ as it hit the floor. He didn’t want to turn around and look at her or see the pained face she’d have on in empathy with him. He couldn’t bear it, because he didn’t deserve it. He was being selfish. 

The presence of her body behind him was evident, even if she wasn’t touching him, he could feel her there. She was hesitant, but he could hear her arm raise to brush his shoulder, calm the shaking in them, but her hand remained hovering behind him, millimeters from his skin. As much as he felt he didn’t deserve her pity or empathy, he sighed and leaned back ever so slightly into the cradle of her palm, letting his weight fall against her reassuring hand, and he melted at the contact. Her other arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him against her chest, letting his troubles befall her as well, and it felt like burden of living wasn’t so hard to cope with, because he wasn’t on his own anymore. They were in this together, now. 

The heat of her breath at the base of his neck and the pull of her hand low on his stomach suddenly connected in his body, generating warmth and lust deep within him. Her fingers were splayed across his abdomen, absently entwining themselves in the trail of dark hair that led further down his body. His cock twitched at the thought of her hand moving lower, feeling the rush of blood below his pelvis and a tightening in his loose trousers. He was wearing his white linen navy uniform pants, as they were the more comfortable option when alone in his quarters. They allowed him room to breath, but, even now, the thin fabric was stifling the heat and nerves beneath them. Emma must have felt the tightening of his muscles against hers, because her thumb had slipped playfully under the waistband of his pants, pulling at them experimentally in question of their removal. As tender as their moment had just been, their proximity lit a fire in him that set his skin ablaze when she touched him, and he couldn’t help the visceral reaction he had when his wife embraced him.

His back was still turned to her as her hand delved under his waistband, gripping him in such a way that it made him gasp. Her breath had grown ragged against his back when her thumb swept over the precum on his head and his shoulders fell back. Her hand sliding along his length made his mouth drop open and his eyes close. Her grip fit perfectly around him and took up such a rhythm that he got lost in the feeling. Just as he was moving his hips along to the motion of Emma’s hands around him, he felt such an instant change of sensations and added moistness that he opened his eyes. He was so surprised to see Emma’s tongue gliding flatly along the nerve on the underside of him that he jumped, feeling his cock hit the roof of her mouth and her teeth graze along him far too sharply for comfort. They both yelped in shock and Killian stepped back, looking down at Emma on her knees in absolute dumbfoundedness. 

“Bleeding hell, Emma!” he managed to shout at her finally, feeling slightly dizzy from the sensations of both Emma’s tongue and teeth clashing in his nerve endings that his cock didn’t know what to react to. He felt a mix of pain, arousal, and embarrassment, anger rising in his cheeks that he even stopped her. She had never put her mouth on him like that and _gods_ did he want her to do that again. Emma scrambled to her feet, pulling her shift down modestly and staring somewhere between the floorboards and his standing erection. 

She was quick to close the distance between them, pushing her hips against his so he could feel the silk of her chemise against the sensitive underside of his cock and made it twitch. The tactility made it seem like all the air had been sucked out of the room and his mouth had gone dry. Her olive eyes gazing into his made his heart beat so strongly that the sound was deafening. He tried to open his mouth to say something, to tell her they needed to finish their discussion, they were in the middle of fighting about something. What were they fighting about? It was important…he knew that...but her lips stopped him from uttering anything, closing on his and making him forget anything but the feel of her skin against his. 

 _Bloody woman knows exactly what she’s doing to me._ The thought made him angry and aroused at the same time, so much so that he deepened their kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth like he was absolutely going to consume her. He _wanted_ to consume her, have and taste and feel all of her. He inhaled deeply, trying to lock her scent and being in his mind so he could recall it when she was gone.

Then he remembered why they were fighting. She was leaving. 

\-----//---------//-----

\-----//---------//-----

His chest hurt like a weight was pushing down on him, pressing into him, threatening to crush his heart. But his heart already felt crushed. It was too late. So he just carried around the pressure, this daunting day that would come, where Emma would leave, had finally come upon him. He couldn’t handle the pressure anymore, he was fit to burst. He wanted to pass on this achy feeling to someone else, let anyone carry this burden so he could breathe for just a moment. 

Everything had become difficult for him; breathing, getting out of bed, appearing normal. She was still there but she wasn’t, like a ghost that followed him around, reminding him that soon he would have nothing, nothing but this bloody boat where nothing but tragedy occurred. He would burn it down with him on it if he could, if it weren’t for his crew and his responsibilities of finding jobs, money, a _livelihood_. He could almost laugh at that in a sick and twisted way. 

They had one more day until they reached a port for her to disembark. Part of him wished she was already gone, so he didn’t have to look at her any longer, another person that would abandon him. Having a forewarning about abandonment didn’t help him one bit, it just filled him with this dreadful anticipation for things to get even worse, this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and drew him down to the earth so that he could no longer move or breath or function. All he could feel was that dread, because he already knew he would feel even emptier without her there. 

He should savor the last day with her, study her face, the lines of her body, every feature of her and how she felt under his touch, but it was too painful. She was visibly upset as well, but the pregnancy gave her a glow that made her light up. Even through the deep lines of exhaustion and unhappiness, this rosy tint of healthy new life burst out of her pores. The idea that he wouldn’t see her face like that for months to come made him want to shout at her about how stupid she was being. But they had already shouted. For hours of screaming and crying and discomfort between them, they were all yelled out. They had nothing left to give to each other if she continued to reach the same conclusion: this life was too dangerous for her, so she was leaving. 

She was lying next to him, though, still sleeping --or pretending to-- and he could feel the warmth of her body against him, the silk fabric of her negligee caressing his torso. It used to drive him insane, before he wouldn’t allow himself to touch her, to be happy, to _fall_ for her. It’s almost the same feeling now, except he already knows what more of her feels like, what indulging himself on her does to his body, mind, and soul. Resisting her now was like depriving himself of oxygen, taking fewer breaths per minute than he needs to live without feeling like he’s suffocating. For a few months, she made him whole, and now she is taking a part of him with her that can’t be replaced by anything else but her at his side. 

He saw her flinch in her sleep and she let out a whimper like she was seeing something frightening in a dream she was having. Killian instinctively reached to comfort her, to grip her shoulder lightly until it passed or to wake her up if it got worse, but he stopped himself, hand hovering above her shoulder in indecision. Emma thrashed in her sleep, turning onto her back as if to get away from her dream and Killian’s concern grew. 

Then her hand grasped his arm and she turned towards him, trying to hold onto something and escape from what she was experiencing. His arms went around her and he shushed her, whispering against her hair that she would be alright, trying to slowly coax her out of the dream instead of abruptly waking her. Her face was buried in his chest and a jolt of warmth shot through him that he hadn’t expected. He had been so closed off from feeling anything that he almost rejected the idea of feeling something good, but now, with her feeling so _right_ against him, he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Don’t go. Please don’t go,” he repeated over and over against the soft blonde curls, tangling his hand through her hair to cup the base of her neck before kissing her forehead. He felt her shift beneath him. She was awake now and they both stiffened. She pulled back from him slowly, tilting her head up to search his face for forgiveness, and he let go of her, closing his eyes to hide what he was feeling. Her hand came up to cup his face and he didn’t move, memorizing the pads of her fingers brushing along the hairs of his stubble, her thumb caressing his cheek with such gentleness he felt like he would break apart if she ever stopped touching him like that. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, voice quavering and her hand shook the slightest bit against his cheek. He opened his eyes to see her mossy green irises magnified by the teardrops threatening to drop down her face. Her chin was quivering and she looked like it took everything in her to keep her hand up against his face. The look on her face pleading with him to make it easier for her, for _them_ , made the ache in his chest worsen, squeezing his heart and constricting his throat. 

“Come with me,” her hand wrapped around his neck and pulled him towards her. He stopped millimeters in front of her face, trying to understand her point of view, why she felt leaving was right, and he just couldn’t. He _couldn’t_. He pressed his forehead against hers and exhaled. His hand was squeezing her waist like he expected her to scoot her body towards his to entice him further, but she didn’t move. Her breath almost came out as a whine from suppressing her sobs and her hand on his neck dug into him, trying to draw strength from him so she wouldn’t break down. How could she not know he felt as broken and beaten down as her? 

His other hand came up to put his thumb to her mouth to silence her, but he got lost in tracing the curve of her lips, and she turned her head to kiss his thumb. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” he breathed, he could feel his pulse accelerating in his chest and his body inching forward to meet hers, “just for a few minutes.” 

His lips touched hers and he became dizzy with the smell of her surrounding him. The familiar, comforting feelings of her leg wrapping around his waist and his hand brushing the edges of her nightgown made him melt into her as he let go of every reason he had not to savor their last hours together. His fingers found her wetness quickly, plunging into her with desperate need to connect to her, physically needing to feel her response to his touch. She gasped at his alacrity, grasping his arm and digging her fingernails into his bicep as he pumped his fingers into her, curving sensitively to the sweet spot that made her toes curl in ecstasy each time he massaged it. 

He attacked her neck with wet kisses and nibbled along her clavicle making her gulp for air between her moans. He was relentless in his attention to every sensitive zone he could reach on her body, stimulating as much of her as he could at once, unable to choose just one part of her to focus on. 

As she began to clench around his fingers, he removed them, hastily replacing them with his bourgeoning cock. She groaned at the change of fullness he made her feel, gripping onto his hip to hold him inside of her so she could adjust. 

“You’re very impatient,” she breathed against his shoulder as he pulled out and thrust back into her quickly and he smirked at that, flashing a devilish grin down at her writhing body. 

“I’m a man with a time limit, love,” he muttered loud enough for her to hear. He didn’t want to discuss his mixed emotions while inside of her. He just wanted to enjoy her while she was still _here_ and he wanted her to remember him, remember how he made her feel. His hand went to her clit, rolling it between his fingers making her hips jerk in response while he thrust himself back into her with slow, deliberate strokes that elicited a strangled cry from Emma’s throat. 

Her hips raised up to join his, and her ankles wrapped around his back so he could bury himself deeper inside. Emma was panting, letting out a high-pitched whine each time he filled her, and grabbing at his buttocks to hold on, _craving_ more of him. His rhythm quickened, as both of them were now desperate to consume the other, lost in the throes of passion, grasping at skin and sheets while mouths sucked and bit at anything they could get between their lips. Emma clenched her teeth onto one of his nipples in a lustful frenzy and he yelped, bucking his hips into her more rapidly as their skin slapped together. His fingers were rapidly rubbing between her legs until she cried out, muscles contracting around him inside of her, bringing him over the edge as well. He exploded with so much pleasure that the moan he made sounded almost painful, like he had been waiting for that release for too long, when, really, it would be too long before he’ll feel that with her again. Both their bodies arched against the other, rising up in joined bliss and holding on as the waves of gratification hit them thoroughly. 

He collapsed on top of her, hips still joined and chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat as they recovered from their high. He felt physically and emotionally destroyed from the day they’d had, alternating between passionate love and passionate anger, carnally turning to each other for comfort. Maybe what they just did made it harder to see her go, but he wouldn’t regret it. He couldn’t regret loving her...

He got lost in thoughts about what his life would be like if she never got on his ship, where he would be now, who she would be married to instead. He go so lost in the idea of never having her that he forgot that she was right there, right against him, around him, underneath him. 

“Killian,” she croaked, voice hoarse from moaning so loudly just moments before. He snapped out of the dark hole his mind had been spiralling down and met her eyes, finally pulling out of her and rolling over next to her. He sighed as they naturally embraced each other; Emma resting her head and arm on his chest as his arm came around her back so he could pull her close. His mind was still alternating between hopeful thoughts of their future together with a child and dreadful thoughts of the pit of despair he’ll be feeling soon enough. He wasn’t the most optimistic person anymore, not after Neverland. 

“What are you going to tell them?” he wondered aloud, not able to imagine anything but an awkward and comical interaction between Emma and two faceless older adults with their arms crossed, frowning at her like children’s drawings and scolding her for missing the most recent ball. He still had a hard time imagining Emma’s life as a princess in a castle, having grown up orphaned and schooled through the Royal Navy. Neither of their childhoods were conventional, but they were both very opposite the other. 

 _Maybe you shouldn’t leave until we work out what you’re going to say_. 

_Maybe you shouldn’t leave at all._

He couldn’t stop the nagging voices in his head screaming warnings at him about her leaving being the worst of ideas. While his gut told him she shouldn’t be going, he wasn’t going to make her stay if she didn’t want to. He should just get used to people going. He thought he would be, by now, but Emma...she was unexpected. 

He rolled them over so her back was to him and she scooted against him instinctively while they both snuggled into the mattress for comfort, her avoiding his question and him avoiding the things he really wanted to say aloud. He was drifting asleep, eyelids heavy and head falling deeper into the pillow. 

“Muriel,” he mumbled against her neck and he felt her shoulder turn to ask him what he was talking about, “if it’s a girl, I’ve always liked Muriel.” And then his mind finally shut off so he could rest. 

\-----//---------//-----

\-----//---------//-----

Killian woke up from a draft in the room, cold air wrapping around his body and covering him in gooseflesh. He was startled awake by the feeling and sat up in the empty bed. His head whipped around the small room for signs of her, but he saw no indications of Emma anywhere in the room, no towel draped over the washing basin or robe hanging on the door. In fact, the room had been tidied, stray clothes and objects put back in their rightful places making his quarters seem un-lived-in. Everything uniquely Emma that used to be here was now gone. And she didn’t say goodbye. 

He jumped off his bed just to check the room, to make sure, pacing through the corners of the room quickly, opening and closing the closet to see nothing but his clothes and no signs of silk or lace to be found. When he reached his desk to see no note as well he had to grip onto his desk chair to steady himself, letting the cold truth of this morning sink in. His hand started to throb from holding the wood so hard that he let go, angry that his body couldn’t sustain this rage inside of him. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the crystal swan that Emma named herself after in telling him her identity. He hastily grabbed it and threw it across the room, shattering the swan into a million tiny shards of crystal that sprinkled across the floor. He wanted to throw more things, but destroying everything on his ship wouldn’t change the fact that she was gone. 

He reached for his flask but opted for the larger full bottle of resting in the corner of his desk, which had been reserved for a special occasion. Waiving ceremony of using a goblet, he uncorked the bottle and hauled it and himself back into bed. Rum would be his only bedfellow from now on, he promised himself. 


	14. Into the Belly of the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm genuinely sorry it took me THIS LONG to update. This chapter is rough and basically just more pain so sorry that you guys waited so long for just more angst haha butttttttt ITS HERE. I appreciate all the nudges for updates because it reminds me that people actually care about the story and want more so it's great to hear that every now and then and know that updating is worth it. Thank you for your support and I hope this chapter doesn't make you hate me more.

She had raced off the ship so quickly, running so far without thought or direction that by the time she looked down at the wooden planks of the dock, she could only see blurry brown beneath her feet as tears welled in her eyes and obscured her vision. Her inability to stay calm or control her emotions, in public no less, was driving her mad with embarrassment to the point that it pushed the large teardrops teetering on the edge of her eyelids over the edge and run down her face. The tears flowed freely once the first tear fell and she couldn’t control it any longer. She let out a loud sob, not caring about the various seamen around her likely gawking at this mad girl on the docks. A few moments after wobbling along the docks, trying to conjure a direction or plan form her spinning mind, she noticed a blue blob coming into her peripheral vision and she tripped, colliding with said blob and into someone's arms. 

"Whoops! Careful there, miss. You've got to pay attention on these docks lest you trip and fall into the sea! We wouldn't want that, now would we?”

The chuckle that the man elicited sounded darkly familiar, but when Emma looked up at the sailor's face she didn't recognize it at all. He was in a blue naval uniform with a captain's hat on, gold rope decorating the epaulets on his shoulders and matching buttons on his coat. She knew the coat well, as it sat discarded in the back of Killian's small closet, she would sometimes wear it out on deck on a cold night. The memory brought the smell of Killian's pirate captain's coat into her nostrils and invading her brain with warm, happy times she had just fled from. Emma blinked the tears out of her eyes and let them fall, not caring what this naval captain thought of her appropriateness. 

"Whose king do you serve under?" Emma asked him formally, straightening up into her old rigid stance from when she attended court. The captain straightened himself similarly, in pride of his position, and answered,

"Why I am Captain Delaney of King Midas' navy, mistress. Why do you ask?" His voice hit something inside of her, reverberating through her core as if to try to jog her memory, try to recognize who he was, but she couldn't work out what was so familiar about him, aside from his uniform. She ignored her wailing instincts and continued formally,

"Good. I am Princess Emma, Prince David's eldest daughter. You might know I have been missing for some time. I'd like for you to take me home now." She didn't wait for him to respond, but instead began walking towards the largest ship on the dock that had naval crew milling about. She heard the captain fall into step after her, likely in pursuit of knowing her story, but first, she needed to wash her face and get something to eat. 

———————

———————

"Princess Emma, Captain Delaney invites you to dine with him," a cabin boy had run into her quarters to announce the invitation. Hearing the captain's name again hit her like a punch in the gut that she almost vomited right then and there. _Delaney. Delaney who came onto The Jolly Roger looking for me, threatening Killian. Bollocks._

Dining in the captain's private quarters, which was just about the last thing she wanted to do after where— who she just left, but she was back in royal territory and had to act accordingly. 

"I had been searching for you, you know," Delaney started, letting his eye wander over Emma sitting at the other end of the table. His quarters were a touch smaller than Killian's, despite the boat being larger than the Jolly Roger. Emma wanted to laugh at this small victory Killian had over this man, except now of course this man had her company and not Killian, so who really had the better end of this? Delaney looked at her like a prize he had won at the fair that he couldn't wait to get home and play with. It was an unsettling look for her to be on the receiving end of. Granted, she didn't think he would do anything, but just his eyes were enough to make Emma's spine shiver with uneasiness. She didn't want to be on this boat any longer than she needed to be. She wondered if there were an easy way to tell someone you're pregnant. The boat hit a few large swells and her stomach lurched. Perhaps the ship and her stomach will do the talking for her. 

"Your father put out word of your disappearance across the realms, sending his friends and high ranking officers to look for you..." Delaney continued like he was asking her a question he already knew the answer to, "but you didn't want to be found."

Emma tried to smile without looking rueful and tried a bit if the roasted chicken on her plate. While his quarters were smaller, the naval captain's meals were far fancier. Her lack of response allowed them to eat in silence for a few minutes, while she hoped she could finish an acceptable amount of food and excuse herself to her quarters, but Delaney proved persistent. 

"Did you happen across a Captain Jones in your travels, princess?" His name lingered in the air like a suffocating invisible gas that would consume her. She didn't want to think about him or let on that she knew him to Delaney. She had to keep her emotions in check.

"Jones is a fairly popular surname, captain,” she stole a quick peek of Delaney’s reaction, trying to gauge his mood towards Killian, “though I don't seem to recall meeting a seaman with such a name, no.”

Emma looked boldly at Delaney's eyes to see if he suspected her of lying and noticed a trail of chicken juices running down his jaw. She tried to suppress her gag reflex at this vision and instantly looked away from the table trying to appear fascinated by the contents of his quarters. 

“Spend any time in the port of Cheshire? There’s a sizeable inn there you may have stayed at?” Emma’s heart skipped at the familiar town name and she nearly choked on her chicken. Yes she was _very_ familiar with that inn, considering it was where Killian took her virginity. 

“I’m sorry, I seemed to have bitten into a peppercorn!” Emma tried to cover the barrage of sensual memories brought on by continuously coughing and drinking water, but the captain eyed her dubiously. 

“What brought you to the docks this morning, then?” he probed, though he seemed more interested in the remaining meat on his chicken bone than her actual answer, until his eyes met hers and her stomach did another flip of nervous discomfort. Something about the way he looked at her was most unsettling. 

“ _Anyone_ could have taken you, m’lady,” a sly grin spread across his face at the thought, “Are you sure you didn’t meet a Jones on your travels?”

His insistence on discussing Killian made her all the more nervous that her face might give her away. Delaney rose abruptly from his seat and began to peruse his desk a few feet away, picking up a collapsible spyglass to examine. 

“Do you know what pirates would do to you if I hadn’t come across you this morning on the docks?” Delaney mused, expanding and collapsing the spyglass between his hands thoughtfully. Emma thought it looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she last saw something like it. She opened her mouth to respond reluctantly, before Delaney cut off her opportunity.

“You wouldn’t be sitting comfortably on your way home to your parents, that’s for sure, m’lady,” his tone grew darker, making sure she knew what great favor he was doing her, even though she was positive he was the kind of person who would do anything to suck up to the king. 

“Nooo, pirates would steal you away before anyone even knew you were missing. They would do anything for a profit, pirates. That Captain Killian Jones wouldn’t think twice about holding you ransom until he had all the gold in the realms.”

Emma wasn’t sure of the point Delaney was trying to make, but the mention of Killian made her heart jump again. Delaney had begun pacing the small room, opening and collapsing the spyglass over and over again as he walked back and forth the few strides he could take from one side of the cabin to the other. The repetitive motion paired with the rock of the boat on the waves made Emma stomach start to churn. 

"Scoundrel that man is, stealing all he has from the navy,” it seemed as if Delaney wasn’t even speaking directly to her anymore, “He was a likely suspect for who'd've taken you, it's a stroke of luck you didn't run into him as I'm sure you'd've never seen your family again." Delaney went on as if Emma wasn't even in the room, now. She imagined he must rant about Killian so often that everyone tunes him out, including himself. Emma was almost intrigued to hear about Killian, even from this captain's skewed perspective of him, she didn't ever pry too far into Killian's past as he was always so tight lipped about what happened to his brother. She leaned over the table intrigued, asking Delaney to continue, 

"So he's a pirate, then?" Emma asked obviously, wondering if this rant of his would actually produce any new information for her about him. Delaney snorted and let out a grunt of amusement. 

“One of the worst there is, milady,” Delaney warned. Emma tried to recount the acts of piracy she’d seen Killian do and came up short. Aside from selling false information to Philip, she knew nothing of his illegal activities. All she saw when they arrived at port towns were the loading and unloading of cargo. The illegal import and export of cargo was hardly that reprehensible of a crime in this time. It’s not like Killian was killing people...that she knew of. He wouldn’t possibly… Emma tried to shake the images of a darker Killian from her mind, not wanted to see her imagination go as far as to be clouded by this disgusting Captain Delaney, when she knew who Killian really was. But, curiosity got the better of her for now,

“What’s he done that’s so terrible?” Emma asked, trying hide her defensive tone and shifting uncomfortably in her chair, wondering whether she wanted to hear the answer to her question. 

“That ship of his!” Delaney nearly shouted, “ _The Jolly Roger_ , or so he calls it, belongs to the _king_ not his sorry arse! And he took it! And the crew!” Delaney’s face was turning red with anger and a slight shade of purple as if this was him holding back in his answer. Emma crept her chair a bit farther from the table in concern as this man’s intense response. Emma was trying piece together the few tidbits of what Killian told her and lining them up with Delaney but still came up with less than an explanation. She tried to wipe the frightened expression off her face but could still feel her eyes widen. 

“None of them were supposed to come back...damn that Jones! Damn him! I deserved that ship, not him!” His fists slammed the table again, knocking his empty wine goblet over in the process. 

“Forgive me, mistress, this is most improper behaviour. I do apologize. You just got me on the topic and that damn Liam Jones still gets to me.” Delaney took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and patted his brow a few times before straightening himself. Aside from the fact that Delaney brought the subject of Killian up himself, Emma was now intrigued, desperately wanting to know more about this strange circumstance in which Delaney was meant to have _The Jolly Roger_ and what did Liam had to do with it. 

“That’s quite alright, Captain. It seems that the life of a sea captain is far more fascinating than those of the nuns I spent time with,” Emma assured him, “Please don’t be afraid to continue. Now, Liam Jones must be related to this...Captain Jones?” As confused as Emma was with this whole backstory, it wasn’t hard to feign puzzlement. Delaney waved a hand of negation before swallowing his chicken and continuing.

“Liam Jones is the elder Jones brother, captain of _The Jewel of the Realm_ , when it was the _navy’s ship_. He was promoted to first ranking captain when it should have been _me_.” Delaney’s hands began to curl into fists again, “When he brought his idiot brother, Killian, on as his first mate, I knew something had to be done. These boys didn’t deserve the _Jewel_! The king had promised it to me! I’ve been stuck on this ruddy ship, leading second-tier sailors on unimportant missions for _too long_.” Emma tried to keep a straight face when he said he ‘something had to be done’ taking a guess of what that something was and not wanting to find out the details, but Delaney looked up to see if she was following along and she gave him a forced smile of interest. 

“I don’t condone bragging, princess, but I _was_ first in my class through military training, thus promising me the most sought-after ship of the realm,” Delaney reasoned. 

“Then how’d Liam get the ship instead?” Emma asked, genuinely wanting to know what happened to Liam, the supposedly murdered uncle of her child. Delaney’s hands seized up in annoyance that he didn’t have the answer, either. 

“I don’t know! The king just...gave it to him! Absurd!” His face was turning purple again and Emma was sure he was bound to burst a blood vessel soon. Emma furrowed her brow. If the king _gave_ Liam the ship then…

“I thought the--” she started to wonder aloud about a fact she wasn’t supposed to know. Killian once said the _king_ killed Liam, which is why he’d never be able to meet her family, or be pardoned in court for piracy. But if the king favoured his brother, then he surely wasn’t the one to kill him. So, who did? The words were stuck in her mouth, trying to backtrack, as she paused and looked up at Delaney with a realization. Her jaw dropped for a moment before she could compose herself, stuffing chicken into her gaping mouth to prevent her from speaking. 

“I’m sorry, Captain, it’s quite late and I’ve confused myself with this story. Most incredible thing for these other men to have done to you, I’m sure. But, I really think I should return to my cabin,” she excused herself, trying not to exit as rapidly as she wished to. 

When she returned safely to her room on the ship, she collapsed against the door, trying to catch her breath through the sobs threatening to escape her throat. Her chest burned as tears welled up in her eyes and she buried her face in her hands, dropping onto the ground in a heap of sorrow. She had just dined with the man who killed Liam and was still trying to have Killian framed for crimes that would cause his execution. Her mind was racing with horrible images of Killian being hanged or burned at the stake, were Delaney to find out Emma’s whereabouts these past few months. 

———————

———————

Emma began waking up like she was slowly drifting to the surface. She started to feel soft caresses across her torso, the scratch of his scruff on her neck, but she still kept her eyes closed, holding onto the warm comfort of a good night’s sleep. She could stay in this cocoon of bliss, hovering between awake and sleep forever. His hands were helping her feel the warmth of sleep while slowly bringing her to an awakened state. It was the most beautiful way to become aware of the morning, with his hands exploring her curves with feather-light touches, almost like he wasn’t even there. But his breath was hot and constant against her shoulder and his lips were ghosting along the nape of her neck that it sent a shiver down her spine and a tingling sensation in her legs. To go from deep sleep to this coil of heat coursing through her body was gradually making her aware of her senses, of his body around her and how hers was reacting to it. 

As Emma stirred, she became aware of his body pressed up against hers, ready to greet her and making her stomach clench in anticipation. She let her legs fall open, exposing more of herself to his probing hands. His fingers played over her hip bone, tantalizing the insides of her thighs and she let out a small gasp each time his hand inched closer to where she wanted it to be. Blood was pumping between her legs and she could feel his hardened cock against her bottom. They didn’t speak and she kept her eyes closed, enjoying the tension of waiting for him teasing her, while they both knew the other was ready. 

He tested himself between her legs, rubbing against her slowly in question before she opened her legs wider and he slid into her from behind. She moaned at the feeling of him filling her, losing her breath at the sensation of waking up in this manner that it seemed to happen so quickly and yet seem like such a long time. She guided his hand between her legs, letting him open her up and stimulate her fully. His mouth was sucking on her neck, her shoulder, her jawline, that she finally turned her head so their lips could meet. Their mouths clashed together in a frenzy of lust and need for each other while he pumped inside her in deliberately long strokes so she could feel every inch of him. It was like she could feel everything at once, each time he pulled almost entirely out of her before plunging back in, timing his strokes with his finger movements over her clit, and she began panting and moaning each time he entered her. The warm sensation of his body joining with hers began washing over her, building inside of her and pulsing through her veins like electricity. His pace quickened and their bodies began slapping together rapidly in search for release, muscles tightening in anticipation. The pleasure was building inside of her so much that she was fit to burst, climbing towards the height of her climax, when a loud horn went off. 

“Land ho!” shouted a detached voice as Emma was startled awake from this pleasant dream to find herself in a foreign bed, on a foreign ship, and an empty feeling inside of her because Killian wasn’t by her side.


	15. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma comes home to the castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took 3 months to update omg but don't worry i had to split this chapter in two so I DO already have some of 16 written and planned out sort of kind of so hopefully the wait for the chapter after this won't be quite so long. Thanks to everyone who is still interested in the story and my writing and pushing me to finish it!!

She made it home after a _long_ carriage ride from the docks to the castle and dusk was turning into night. Being surrounded by forest again was...comforting and unfamiliar at the same time. She was home but still didn’t feel complete at all. No, she felt like she left a part of herself behind when she made the decision to come back her, but she didn’t want to think about that gaping hole in her chest right now. 

Her arrival was rather hushed as servants scurried around her, dodging her or otherwise sporting surprised gaping jaws upon seeing her. She didn’t know if it felt better to be ignored or worse to be noticed. Were there a way for her to have slipped into the castle as silently and stealthy as she had left it, she’d be able to have a good night’s rest and deal with all….this...in the morning. But, that wasn’t the case, and her father had been arriving home from a hunt five minutes before she walked through the front hall. 

A loud clang of metal sounded out through the front hall, echoing painfully in Emma’s ears as the unmistakable noise of her father’s sword falling to the ground. To say he was shocked was an understatement as his mouth fell open and tears welled in his eyes. He didn’t move though, almost as if moving would make Emma’s image disappear. Seeing him made her heart swell, like she forgot he existed while she was gone and only just realizing how much she missed him. She stared at the sword on the ground for a long time before finally letting her gaze meet her father’s and whispering,

“It’s me, Dad, I’m home,” and she let the tears fall freely down her cheeks.

David practically lunged in Emma’s direction, enveloping her in his arms and cradling her head as gently as if she was a newborn baby. 

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he mumbled into her hair and Emma squeezed him tighter. She didn’t want to think about what they must have gone through, what scenarios ran through their heads while she was gone, or about the fact that she wasn’t all that concerned with their reaction to her disappearance until right now. Now all the thoughts and worry and shame over being so selfish was hitting her at once and it made her chest ache so much that she couldn’t breathe. Just then, David let her go with a panicked look on his face and grabbed her shoulders.

“Your mother. Has she seen you?”

Emma’s eyes widened in realization that she had another parent to surprise, and she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for another wave of emotions, especially considering her hormones. Emma gulped.

“How about you tell her, and I’ll go lie down for a quick nap?” Her eyebrows raised hopefully.

“Nice try, kiddo, your mother would kill me,” her father’s smile was infectious, even though the worry lines creased into his forehead gave Emma a lurch of guilt in her stomach, she was happy to be home.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

“Oh, thank the gods you’re alive!” her mother dropped everything and came running at her crying, bringing her into one of those hugs that was so distinctly _mom_ that Emma lost it that very moment. The comforting warmth of her mother was here for her now, after everything she did to get away and how much she _needed this_ right now, it was the best feeling in the world. One of the deciding factors in coming home was, frankly, she needed her mother. She was _pregnant_ for the first time and still young and needed her mom. She could never have fully admitted that out loud, let alone to Killian. 

 _Killian_. _No, no,_ don’t _think about him, not while you’re already crying and hugging your mom. Don’t. You’ll end up getting over-emotional and_ telling _them_ the truth _._  

Emma bit her lip, trying not to let the crying overflow into an emotional breakdown over being away from Killian. She clamped down on her lip until she tasted the iron tang of blood in her mouth and she stopped, letting her body relax into her mother’s grasp and safety of being home. 

When they broke from their embrace, Snow’s face changed from soft and welcoming into one of scolding and concern. All warm and fuzzy feelings drifting throughout the atmosphere vanished as her mother went off on a rant about how dangerous it is outside the castle walls. 

“You shouldn’t have left, Emma, you could have been _killed_!” she went on, gripping Emma’s shoulders and shaking her a bit during the more serious points of her argument, “Things only got worse out there after you left, Emma, you have no idea how _worried_ we were about you! It was even a horrible risk your father took of sending your Uncle Philip out looking for you!” At the end of this exclamation she took a deep breath and crossed her arms, almost flustered by the fact that she actually just reprimanded Emma the moment she returned safely. Emma’s mouth opened to say something, but she wasn’t sure what to say aside from something possibly snarky, so she closed it again and glanced in her father’s direction. He looked a bit surprised at Snow’s reaction as well, but also must have seen it coming, likely having heard these points of argument over the months that she was gone. That pang of guilt wracked her stomach once more. Or was that morning sickness? 

Snow sighed once more, resigned, “Well you’re home now, and that’s all that matters. Just...don’t do that again.”

“Wait how have things gotten ‘worse out there,’ will you guys at least tell me what’s going on, so I know what I should be so afraid of?” Emma asked, backtracking through Snow’s stream of worries and realizing she hadn’t sensed any such danger while with Killian, aside from that horrible brothel. Emma caught a nervous glance pass between Snow and David before they dismissed the subject as ‘unimportant’ and ‘for another time’. _Great so I’m a child again_. 

“You know what, we should hold a _ball_ in honour of your homecoming!” Snow interjected excitedly into the awkward tension that had filled the room throughout their conversation. Before Emma could say no, her mother was already listing off decorations, themes, colour schemes, and invitees, rushing out of the room with a few servants to aid her in the gathering of supplies. 

“So, mom is still trying to set me up with a guy I don’t want to be with?” 

Her father sighed, like it wasn’t something he could help, like there was no other option. _What_ was going on that they weren’t telling here?

“We just...we have very few people we can trust right now, Emma--”

“So why not invite them all to a ball?” She could feel herself regressing into teenage mode once again but didn’t know how to stop it. It was like her body’s automatic response to parental restraint. She forced a tight-lipped smile to her father before getting up and facing her father with her hands on her hips and a stern look.

“Did it ever occur to you guys that I may have already found the person I want to marry?”

David’s eyes went wide with shock and had he been drinking liquid at that moment, he would have spit it out dramatically. Emma almost wished she had timed it that way just for a more amusing response from her point of view. 

“You...you met someone while you…” he couldn’t finish the sentence because none of them really knew how to even categorize her running off. Saying ‘running away from home’ didn’t seem appropriate to say in conjunction with telling her father she’s met her future husband. 

“Yes, he’s a captain from the Royal Navy...” none of this was a lie, but she wasn’t sure what else she could say about him. Was she getting ahead of herself saying all this? Did Killian even want to _actually_ marry her or were they in a relationship out of convenience? Has he completely forgotten about her since she left and moved on to the next bar wench he encounters? 

She thought she heard her father ask if she wanted to invite him to the ball, but her head was spinning with these wild thoughts of her child being a fatherless bastard and Emma would grow to be an old spinster in one of the castle towers like Rapunzel when she suddenly realized she had collapsed to the ground only to be caught by her father and heaped into a chair. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw a servant rush out of the room, likely going to fetch her mother to notify her of these developments. 

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

In the blur of passing out, or fainting? Was there a difference? She was pretty sure her parents were in the room with her. It wasn’t the room she fainted in, it was _her_ room. But, she heard them discussing her, discussing what she said about Killian. 

“A _captain_? Did she say who?” Snow whispered to David.

 _Oh gods I didn’t tell them his name, did I?_ She didn’t think so. Just the Navy captain part. 

“I hope it’s not that man who brought her back here. Delaney. Phillip served with him at one point, said he was a...questionable fellow.” she heard her father say to her mother.

She only remembers bits and pieces of their discussion as she faded in and out of consciousness. 

“Maybe he’ll hear about the ball and surprise her. Why isn’t he with her now?”

“I’ll ask around if any naval ships are in town, maybe he’s on his way,” David assured Snow. 

Their conversation while she slept seeped into her brain and made her think and dream that Killian was still with the Royal Navy and never became a pirate, never went through the pain of losing his brother at the hands of a corrupt system. _Delaney_. The memory of the disgusting naval captain telling her his plans that meant to get both Liam and Killian murdered so he could advance ahead of them in the ranks. It made her nauseous that Killian didn’t know. So nauseous that she woke up heaving over the side of the bed. 

“Damn baby,” she choked on her breath and spit, trying to wipe her mouth and get some fresh air into her lungs that didn’t taste of bile. She wanted to eat but the thought made her feel even more ill. This pregnancy thing was terrible. She sat up and reached for the glass of water on her bedside table, but upon doing so she was so startled she dropped the glass and it shattered into pieces, making the crash of glass on the marble floor echo through the walls of her room.

She had then noticed her parents were still in the room. 

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

There’s a chance they didn’t hear her under the heaving sounds of her labored breath. Their looks of shock could indicate their response to the glass breaking or her nearly vomiting, not necessarily her talking to the fetus inside of her. Maybe if she pretended it was a dream and just went back to sleep they would just...forget it happened. 

She started to slip back under the covers, furtively glancing at her parents once the duvet reached her chin and then promptly closed her eyes, pretending to sleep.

“Emma…” her father said in that ‘please enlighten us’ tone of his that warned reprimand otherwise. 

“Emma are you pregnant?!” her mothers voice was shrill on the border of angry or excited, Emma couldn’t tell. Gods and she already told them about the guy. What is _wrong_ with her. She was used to having the freedom of the captain’s quarters, of interruptions being bellowed down by a gruff shipmate who didn’t really care about her existence on the ship except for the fact that she seemed to put him and thus the crew in a better mood. She hadn’t had to watch her words or movements in case she let something slip (except about being a princess). And now the bile was rising in her throat again and she felt herself instinctively swallow down some air to smother the sickness out. But it was too late and she was actually [morning] sick[ness] all over the shards of glass and marble floor.

“Yes,” she said a little too loudly in response to her mother’s question because not only was she rudely awakened with these nonsense symptoms of pregnancy but her parents were here to witness it and question her about it when it was _clearly_ not the time. She probably wasn’t more than two months gone at this point, she could have hidden it better, but at least now they know. 

“I want the guards to be on alert for any _naval captains_ in the area. I’m going to need to question _all_ of them,” she heard her father demand as he was storming out of the room. Only this time her father said naval captain in the same tone he uses to discuss the Evil Queen and their kingdom’s other enemies. Snow gave Emma a sympathetic look of apology as she followed Charming out of the room in a hurry, hoping he didn’t start destroying things or strangling every man he saw in the vicinity of the castle. 

This ball should be interesting. 

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

“What would you do with a drunken sailor...dala lada hsheoign dRUNken SAILOR, laadddddsthhrrunken saaailorrrr,” he was making his way down the main street of...what town was it again? Regardless, he thought he was walking in the straightest of lines anyone had ever walked. Quite quickly, though, he discovered a wall was in his path and he tried, with much might, to move said wall in any direction in order to proceed with his serenading of the town on this lovely evening. His crew was behind him, surely, following him to their next tavern. The last tavern ran out of rum _and ale_! Unbelieveable for an establishment meant to sell spirits to patrons. What poorbusiness-running priorities. He was still muttering the lyrics to the song, until he realized he didn’t know the next verse as well,

“What are the words, Smee?” he shouted out to an absent Smee behind him to no answer. He had met a new mate in the last tavern who seemed set on joining their crew, eager to please the captain with as many pitchers of ale as he pleased. He liked this new man, Smee. 

Killian continued humming absentmindedly until he got to the chorus again and whirled around to invite Smee to sing along. In his stupor, Killian had, in fact, wandered his way to the front gates of the palace and whirled directly into the chest of a dark-armoured castle guard, who was not so entertained by Killian’s singing.  

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” Killian patted the guard’s body armour lightly before turning on his heel and attempting a quick exit from the situation. Unfortunately, his swiftness was rather reduced by his inebriation, and the guard grabbed him by the collar of his coat and pulled him back stumbling. 

“Oh, were you going to tell me the words to the song? I seemed to have lost my…” he glanced around lazily for Smee, hoping to escape this misfortune, “Have you seen a wee stout man, round belly, rather silly red hat?” Killian mused with sleepy, half-closed eyelids, making the shape of an imaginary hat on his head to demonstrate the look further.

“No, but perhaps you’ll find him in the brig,” one of the guards laughed at him, dragging him towards the castle dungeons. 

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

The brig, evidently, was in the dungeon of the nearest castle, Killian didn’t know which one, but it was a good hour’s ride from town in the back of a carriage. He couldn’t quite remember the name of the village he was in that even _had_ a castle nearby, because going on a bender near royalty was never a good idea.

By the time they threw him into a cell, he was thinking about Emma, whether she was safe, and if her castle looked anything like this, he was sure she was. But the fact that she left still stung, lingering in the back of his mind at all times that the life he leads would never be good enough. And wasn’t where he was right now a good representation of what she must have meant. Though, when Killian looked around at his cellmates, he noticed quite a few of them, in fact, _most_ of them, were naval captains, and in fancy dress no less. _What the devil?_

“What’re you all doing here?” he slurred in their direction, gesturing to the group of them on a bench who were leaning their heads against the wall. They looked bored, but not guilty of anything beyond that. 

One of the captains looked up, recognizing Killian and nudged the others to look, as if it were an oddity that Killian should be found in a brig. What the hell was going on?

“We could ask you the same thing, Jones! Why have they brought you in tonight?” the captain emphasized _you_ in a way that meant Killian wasn’t good enough to even set foot inside a castle, even its brig. 

“Oh, this a prison just for you royal bastards, is it?” Killian stood up, “They’ll have to clear out the entire castle to fit the lot of you!” he swayed in place, realizing how drunk he still was, but held his ground and stood tall. He won’t be told he doesn’t belong, especially amongst his old peers, even if it is in a brig, that doesn’t make these men any better than he. 

“Don’t start, Jones,” one of the captains on the bench complained loudly to him, “We all just came here to have a good time at the ball and meet the fair princess Emma and--”

“ _What did you say?_ ” Killian growled loudly at them, his voice low like a rumble of thunder that rolled through the stone of the walls and reverberated around them loudly, because how dare anyone mention her name to him.

 


	16. Meet the Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The king and the pirate have a killer first meeting, thankfully Emma is not present to witness it, or is she?

“We all just came here to have a good time at the ball and meet the fair princess Emma and--”

“ _What did you say?_ ” Killian growled loudly at them, his voice low like a rumble of thunder that rolled through the stone of the walls and reverberated around them loudly, because how dare anyone mention her name to him. His crew knew well enough not to ask about her and he had momentarily forgot that not everyone in his current vicinity knew of his recent heartbreak, of who Emma was _to him_. 

“The King and Queen threw a ball to celebrate the return of their missing eldest daughter, Princess Emma, tonight--” the captain stopped talking at the sound of footsteps descending the dungeon staircase. 

“Gentleman, you may return to the ball. I apologize for interrupting your evening,” a blond man in formalwear announced to the cell before one guard tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to Killian.

“We just brought ‘im in from the village. Thought ye might fancy a little chat with ‘im,” the guard said as the rest of the captains were led upstairs. His hands tightened to fists in aggravation of being singled out from the crowd once again. He was starting to regret opening that second bottle of rum, but if Emma was _here_ …

The man in formalwear gave him a once-over, determining what to say to Killian first,

“Let me guess, you’re in here for piracy?” he nearly spit when he said piracy, demonstrating just what he thought of Killian’s career choice. _Wonderful_. Killian forced a laugh, trying to relax his shoulders and prepare himself for an interrogation. 

“A good pirate never gets caught,” Killian retorted with his usual line. Though he was relatively new to the piracy business, he hadn’t, up to this point, been put in jail because of it. He’s been in jail plenty of times since shedding his naval uniform, but not for piracy. 

The man scoffed at his comment, rolling his eyes at the cocky statement,

“Well you got caught doing something, and I know not to take a pirate’s word.”

“Rather judgmental for a prince, wouldn’t you say? You don’t even know me,” Killian was taking a guess, based off his outfit, that the man was a prince at the least, and if he was king, then he got an insult to his authority to boot. 

“I’m _king_ , should you choose to address me by my title, but let’s skip introductions for now. What brought you to the village? A bit far from the docks, I’d think.”

“For a good drink, it’s not,” Killian still didn’t even know which village he was in, but he knew he was there for its renowned tavern. They had good prices on rum and when he was drinking at this volume, the price mattered. He’s not sure he would’ve trusted himself with the knowledge of where Emma’s home was, because when drunk, he would have most certainly tried to break in and get arrested just to see her, just to know she’s alright, the baby’s alright. 

“Heard of any serial killers on your travels?” The bluntness of the question took Killian by surprise., so much so that he nearly laughed out loud. It reminded him of Emma, actually, not wanting to dance around the topic and get right to it. He smirked to himself at the memories of _him_ questioning _her_ when he first found her on the ship. Then it dawned on him. 

“You’re her father,” he spoke barely below a whisper, because now that he knew who the man standing in front of him was, he could see all the traits Emma had inherited from him. Perhaps this was the closest to Emma he was going to get, so he started to study the man. 

“What did you say? Her father? Do you know Emma?” The stream of questions came out of him quickly and angrily as if Killian knowing Emma was such an offense that he felt the need to pull out his sword and shove the point towards Killian’s neck through the bars. Killian quickly backed away from the weapon, his shoulders hitting the stone wall of the dungeon with a light thud. 

“ _How_ do you know Emma?” the king said through gritted teeth, the tip of his sword wobbling threateningly towards Killian’s throat. Though the sword was a good two feet away from possibly being able to pierce his skin, the king instilled fear in Killian. He could see in the king’s eyes that he was fiercely protective of his family, and he would likely rip the bars of the cell apart to get at Killian if he needed to. Killian’s heart was pounding in his chest, nerves running through him over what Emma would think of this impression he’s already made on her father, making his palms sweat and his cheeks flush. He didn’t let the king know he was scared for his life at this very moment, but the king also didn’t know Killian took her maidenhood, yet, either. Emma wasn’t joking about her parents’ overprotectiveness, but it almost made him want to play a bit with the king.

“The only murderer I know is also a king, but I’m sure you knew that,” Killian decided to avoid the question about Emma entirely and get back to talking about King Midas. Throwing the king off made him lower his sword in contemplation of who Killian could be talking about. 

“You know who’s been killing all the prominent figures in the realm?” Now it was Killian’s turn to be thrown off and confused. He didn’t know anyone who had been killed suspiciously since Liam, but the idea of more people dying under strange circumstances now didn’t surprise him in the least. 

“I only know a king who killed a naval captain, but beyond that I’m afraid I can’t help you.” 

“Why would a king kill a naval captain? And how do you know it was a king?”  
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Killian responded defeatedly. He hadn’t wished to bring up Liam’s unfortunate death anymore than he wanted to tell the king how he knew Emma, but the royal sensed the somber mood Killian was in and dropped his shoulders, letting the tip of his sword fall to rest on the ground, no longer needing to threaten damage upon Killian’s person. 

“How do you know Emma?” the king asked again in a much calmer voice than before, though his fist still gripped the sword tightly in his right hand, prepared for the worst. 

“I met her once...in the time she was missing…” now that he had started talking, Killian was immediately regretting admitting his familiarity with the king’s daughter, “she had gotten into some trouble at the local, erm,” he paused for a moment, rubbing a knuckle below his lower lip and not wanting to mention the brothel in fear that the king would leap at him in anger, or worse, take things out on Emma for even being _near_ a brothel. He couldn’t say men had taken her because then he’d worry that she was raped and the entire idea of trying to be honest with this man went entirely down the drain the moment he started speaking. Killian cleared his throat, hoping to start over with his explanation,

“She found herself in a bit of trouble and I happened to be there and help her out of it, and then we parted ways. I told just the same to, erm, Prince Philip, or is he a king as well? I never know these days with all the royalty running away from home and what-not.”

He went with deflect and insult as his mode of getting out of saying any more than he had to. Had he mentioned the word brothel to the king, he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Emma...if he ever saw her again. Though, considering he was currently in the same castle as she was definitely gave him better odds than if he were on his ship. He wasn’t sure about the frequency at which Emma might visit the dungeons when at home, especially considering the ball being held on the floor above him at this very moment, but considering her curious nature and general lack of interest in finding a suitor, she was bound to end up down here eventually. He just hoped he’d still be alive when she did decide to make a trip down there. 

“You think my daughter’s well being is a joke, pirate?” the king’s grip tightened on his sword as the tip rose up in Killian’s direction again, “Guards, get me the keys to this cell!” The king shouted unnecessarily as the guards had been positioned at their posts in duplicate since the king came down to the dungeon. One man was fiddling with the keychain on his belt, trying to find the right one, and Killian was almost certain he was going to be killed before Emma would ever know he was even here.

\----------------

\----------------

The ball was boring to say the least, as are most parties that are filled with your parents friends instead of people _you’d_ like to spend the evening socializing with. Things got a bit more interesting after a large group of naval officers, all captains, made their way into the ballroom. 

“Where did _they_ all appear from?” Emma half mumbled it to herself but her mother heard her regardless. Emma couldn’t help but scan the crowd of men for a particular dark haired one she knew wasn’t there. Still, she felt that sharp pang in her gut when she couldn’t find him, even though a part of her was relieved that her parents hadn’t found him. Well, they wouldn’t if they were looking for a naval captain rather than a former naval lieutenant now, would they? 

“Your father is being just a little overprotective now that you’re back, so he was just...questioning some of them. You know how your father gets,” Snow said this with a smile and a wave of her hand to say it’s harmless conversation and he was just being dear old dad. Panic struck her nervous system at the thought of her father ‘questioning’ Killian and how exactly that conversation would _end_. Her palms started sweating and her dress felt far too tight in the bodice.

“Did he find him?” Emma asked with the tiniest bit of hope in her voice at the thought of seeing Killian again, though she knew he would never be so stupid as to be seen by royal guards anywhere. But, still, a part of her wished he was here, that he did come to find her, to be with her, even after everything she put him through,. Her parents always found each other, always talked of those precious few times they had been separated and always reunited because of how strong their bond was. Emma had always hoped for a connection like that with someone, a man who would never stop looking for her no matter the reason they were separated. She wanted to ignore the little voice in the back of her mind that said of course he didn’t come to find you, because _you left him_. 

She noticed her mother staring at her in a concerned manner, clearly debating whether or not to continue discussing this topic.

“Emma...the danger-- the reason we haven’t…” Snow’s brow furrowed trying to come up with the right way to say whatever it is that she wanted to explain, “Emma, someone out there is murdering high ranking naval officers, and a good number of dukes and earls as well. Emma, we don’t know what’s going on but no one is safe, especially not someone first in line to inherit the throne one day. So, if you’ve spent so much time with a naval captain while you were gone, your father means to find out all he can about him.”

Emma felt like her heart had stopped beating and all the breath had been sucked out of her chest at the news. Though she heard everything her mother was telling her, all she could think of was if Killian was still alive, because she had a pretty good idea of who was killing these men off, and Killian was probably high on his list. She could feel the hot tears welling in her eyes because now she was _angry_ that her parents kept this information from her for this long, angry with herself for leaving Killian without saying _anything_ and assuming he’d be fine. A storm of emotions were building in her making her head dizzy and overheated as if steam were about to come out of her ears. 

“ _Did he find him?_ ” Emma asked again through her teeth, not sure she wanted to know the answer if her mother had just told her how many people have been killed recently. But she needed to know, she _had_ to know if he was safe, even if he was being questioned by her father.

“I don’t know. Did you see him in that group of captains that just came up?” Snow was now scanning the room as well, even though she knew her mother had no idea what Killian looked like. 

“Wait, came _up_? Up from--” Emma stopped when she spotted her Uncle Philip walk out of the ballroom towards the dungeon door and she quickly followed after him. She had to see for herself. 

\---------------

\---------------

“Philip, did you ever come across this _pirate_ in your search for Emma?” the king still had his sword trained on Killian’s neck, with his other hand on the cell door waiting for a reason to open it and attack. 

“I met him at an inn in Cheshire,” Philip looked uncertain about what he was saying which really wasn’t helping Killian’s case, “and he told me Emma was heading towards the forest, because that’s what her mother did when she was on the run.” 

At the mention of Emma’s mother, Killian saw the king’s sword drop a bit and his mouth fell open just the slightest as he turned to look at Killian, eyes narrowing in examination of this foreign man. 

“She...she told you that?” His expression softened at the memory of a young Snow White as an outlaw in the Enchanted Forest where they met, but then his eyes turned dark as the memory faded and he returned to the present situation, “why would she tell _you_ that?”

 _Why do you think?_  

“I told you, I helped her out of a scrape and she was--” Vulnerable? Scared? How could he say any of this without giving himself away? 

“Did you take advantage of my daughter!?” the king barked at him, throwing open the cell door and charging into the cell so the steel of his sword could press firmly against the pulse on Killian’s neck. The king backed him against the stone wall with his sword held across his throat so that any move Killian made would likely lead to his death. There was rage in king’s eyes but also pain, though at the moment, the anger was very much taking control of his actions, seeing violence as the only way to find answers. 

“What do you want me to tell you,” Killian’s chest was heaving from the strength it took him not to move or respond in kind, to stay there poised before death without moving took an immense amount of exertion. His voice grated through his throat and between gritted teeth, because if he were to move his jaw the steel would cut his skin. His heartbeat was thumping loudly in his ears, so hard that he started to see black at the edges of his vision. All his muscles were tensed in anticipation of this expected end, just waiting for something to happen, because he couldn’t stand being on this plane of uncertainty between life and death. Waiting to die was no way to live. 

“Do you want me to lie?” he asked through clenched teeth, inhaling air sharply through his nose, trying to maintain strength, “Do you want me to tell you I took her maidenhood?” the edge of the sword pushed harder against Killian’s throat and he exhaled through his nose like a raging bull, trying not to move in order to avoid injury, but at the same time goading the king on. He knew he was being combative but so was the king, “Do you want me to give you reason to kill me, or would you do it anyway in this blind rage?”

At this, the king withdrew his sword quickly and slapped his hand against the stone wall right next to Killian’s face in intimidation...anger, or was it defeat? They held each other’s gaze, their chests heaving as the tension built high between them, both waiting for the other to make the first move, to give reason for assault, but Killian did nothing but stare back. It may have been 30 seconds but it felt like hours before the king looked away and exited the cell without a word, locking the door once more and retreating to give guards orders.

“David, Emma is in the stairwell, but I wouldn’t let her come downstairs. Shall I--” Prince Philip had returned at some point during the heated exchange between pirate and king. David followed Philip hastily up the stairs maybe 10 steps, 20, before Killian heard their muffled voices echoing through the stone of the staircase.

“Emma, you shouldn’t be down here. You should be enjoying your ball,” Killian heard the king, David, say in a hushed voice. 

“So I can entertain all the naval captains you’ve interrogated tonight?!” Emma sounded furious and it almost made Killian laugh through the anguish building in his chest, because he could just see her with the space between her eyebrows scrunched and her arms crossed, leaning over into her father’s personal space so he’d know she was being serious. Killian whispered her name silently, just letting it come across his lips once more, wishing she could somehow hear him or just know by instinct that it was _him_ down there. The thought of her being this close and not knowing made him ache, like his heart was burning a hole in his chest. 

“None of them are-- He’s not here?” David sounded surprised and elated at the same time to learn that none of the naval captains he had already questioned were Emma’s suitor. 

“Not unless you’ve got more down there, no...he wouldn’t be here, anyway,” Killian heard Emma dismiss the idea that he would even show up to the castle. Under normal circumstances, had he even known of the ball, he probably wouldn’t have risked an appearance. He would’ve found another way to contact her, to get her to come to the village instead, on neutral ground. 

“Emma, please, I’m here,” he whispered it aloud this time, only loud enough for him to hear, so he was certain this was real, that Emma was right here in the same place as he. 

“The only guy left down there is a criminal from the village. We’ll likely have to hang him for piracy,” David decided this so suddenly he almost surprised himself in saying it and sighed deeply as if to demonstrate what a shame it was that such evil exists in this world.

 _Emma, it’s me, please hear me, I’m here_. Part of him wanted to yell, let her know he was here, _right here_ , but he had a feeling he’d be muted by the guards rushing to silence him. He was too afraid to say this out loud in fear he was shout it, scream it, because he so desperately wanted her to know they were so close. 

“Piracy? Since when do we hang-- what’s a pirate doing so far from the ports?”

“Since when are you so interested in our disciplinary practices, sweetie? Just forget it and enjoy the ball dedicated to your homecoming! You should be upstairs having fun, not worrying about the scum in the dungeon, c’mon.” 

Killian heard their footsteps fade away as they reached the upper floor and he was alone. His throat was dry and raspy as if he had been yelling for her attention through this whole exchange. 

“Please! She’s carrying my child, please!” he gasped through choking down the tears that were burning his throat. He couldn’t bear to hear her and not see her, not have her _know_ that-- He gasped again, trying to control himself, wishing he could twist these metal bars apart to see her. He certainly felt like he was gripping them hard enough to bend them, or otherwise break himself in the process of trying. His forehead dropped against the cold metal and a thought flickered to his mind to start banging his skull against it, maybe it would distract him from the pain he felt in his chest, the pain he felt from knowing he was _so close_. “Please,” the word eked out of his throat in a painful cry of desperation for her, “she is everything to me.”

His sentenced ended in a whisper as he let his body collapse to the floor, muscles relaxing from the tension-filled torment he put himself through since the words ‘princess Emma’ came out of that other captain’s mouth and he was filled with the tiniest ounce of hope that he could rectify what he had from his relationship with her. All the hope and tension he built up in his body he let go, now, accepting the sentence from Emma’s father that this was the end of the road for him and his story. He would die here in this cell and never see her.


	17. The Truth Comes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Charming is confronted with the truth about the pirate in the dungeon

“Killian,” Emma whispered through the cell bars. 

He had fallen asleep where he collapsed at the door of the cell on the cold, hard stone floor of the dungeon. Emma was crouched down beside him in a pale pink ballgown that poofed out around her bent legs that the skirt encircled her torso, making her look like she was floating on a pinkish cloud above him. He peeked up through one eye slit open in the dark dungeon to this image and he knew it must be a dream. Her wavy blonde locks were swept to one side and flowing down past her bosom like a golden wave. She seemed so close and real that he reached out between the bars to wrap one of her curls around his finger. Her hair was soft against his rough, calloused fingertips and the feeling brought back memories of the nights he’d wake up next to her and just revel in her beauty. Under the assumption that he was dreaming, he moved his hand further into her hair to cup the back of her neck and pull her face towards him. He missed that rush he got when he could move his hands through her hair and their bodies would magnetize towards each other in mutual need to be closer. They’d bring themselves millimeters away from each other’s lips and pause, soaking up the anticipation one gets from the moment right before their lips meet another’s, memorizing each other in this state of near perfection right before their bodies would crash together. 

He opened his eyes when she started nibbling at his bottom lip, pulling him towards her and the heat was rising to the surface of his cells that he felt just how real the vision of Emma was in front of him. 

It wasn’t a dream and he nearly jumped away from her in surprise that it was really _her_ and she was actually seeing and touching him. 

“Emma!” was all he could muster as his fingers touched his lips to test his sensory skills at the moment, since he wasn’t able to entirely judge what was happening right now. 

“ _Emma_ ,” he whispered her name this time and his warm breath hit his fingers, so he looked up, wishing there wasn’t a wall of metal bars between them, “Emma, what are you doing here?” He was truly concerned for her after seeing her father’s temper, but perhaps that was just his attitude towards so-called criminals like himself who know his daughter. 

She opened her mouth to explain, perhaps to say something snarky, but then her face went blank, as if she truly didn’t know what brought her here,

“My dad said there was a pirate in the dungeon, so I just...I had to know,” her voice rasped and he heard her start to choke on her words as they matched each other’s pained expression. Her eyes were glassy, the tears reflecting off the torchlight in the dungeon, but before she let a tear fall she swallowed hard and furrowed her eyebrows,

“I live here! What are you doing here?!” She looked angry with him, understandably so, considering she’s the one who left without saying a word. Killian dropped his head and leaned against the bars defeatedly,

“Pirate’s life, love,” he wanted to add something about it being too dangerous for her but he was too happy to see her in front of him to be cruel, he couldn’t be cruel to her. He turned around to face the wall in order to allow her to leave “I’m sure your father told you I’ll be gone for good by morning.”

“No you won’t,” Emma said nonchalantly, causing him to spin around on his heel to look at her, to discern just how serious she was being, “What? Did you think I came down here to kiss you and let you die?” 

“ _You_ didn’t even know why you came down here! How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?! I don’t even know why you left, you didn’t say anything!” he blurted out. He was frustrated and exhausted from the night’s events, it was a shock he was even standing up without leaning against something. He felt his cheeks go red the moment he heard himself confront her about leaving, knowing this wasn’t the time to discuss that, that she wouldn’t address the reason she ran from him. 

“Because _you_ didn’t say anything!” she shouted back at him, fuming and embarrassed to not entirely understand what he does to her, not able to interpret how she feels when he’s around her. He makes her insane, incoherent, act without thinking and it makes her uncomfortable with how unpredictable he makes her. She didn’t know if she wanted to slap him or kiss him or both. Likely both. 

“I didn’t think making a grand declaration of love was going to save us. You were set on your decision, you weren’t going to change it. Once you get too comfortable you have to run, hurt them before they can hurt you, yeah?” He was staring at her feet, watching her unable to stand still, ready to flee, more like it. He smiled to himself that he knew her so well and how angry she must be that he figured her out. He felt her head tilt up to look at him, so he met her eye with a smirk on his face. She wasn’t the only one who’s angry. 

She opened her mouth to spit back some retort but clearly couldn’t come up with anything, or didn’t think it fitting, because she just turned around and walked to a dark corner of the dungeon where Killian couldn’t quite see her anymore. He heard her fiddling with some metal pieces, the clang of iron lightly hitting against something, and then she reappeared in the light with a chain of keys in her hands. She hastily unlocked his cell and pulled him towards her by the lapels of his coat so their chests were pushing against one another before her hands came around his neck and into his hair, holding their foreheads against each other for a moment. And they just stood there, wrapped up in each other and slowly taking one another in. She had closed her eyes while he felt her hands delve into his hair, playing with it at the base of his neck, sending chills down his spine with the familiarity and intimacy of the gesture. He’d missed this, just being close to her. 

“What kind of grand declaration are we talking about, here,” Emma whispered to him as she opened her eyes and he felt a slight pull with her hands at the base of his neck to bring them even closer and her head tilt up towards him as she stood on her toes a bit higher, “because I--” He cut her off with his lips on hers, pulling her into the cell further so he could push her against the bars. Emma made a small whimpering sound as her body hit the cold metal behind her and his body pressed into her at every possible point, making her sway into his hips with hers. 

“You know I’m better with actions, Swan,” he whispered against her lips once they came up for air for a moment, and he felt her smile against him, exhaling a laugh.

“Swan?” she asked, looking at him before glancing down at his lips once more, intent on returning to their amorous activities.

“It’s the last name you gave yourself when we first met,” he was studying her face now as he if he forgot all the little details about her and wanted to commit them to memory again, just in case. 

“Emma Swan,” she repeated the name aloud to see how it sounds and Killian rose his eyebrows in approval.

“I like Emma Jones better,” his tone has suddenly shifted to very serious, with a hint of uncertainty as to how Emma would respond, making his statement sound like a question of whether or not she agreed that the last name Jones fit her better. He hoped this suggestion came across as a gesture of love and intent on making this name change a reality that everyone knew her as. A wide grin spread across Emma’s face and she bit her lip, simply beaming at him in admiration as she leaned in to kiss him again, and they heard a sound from the stairwell. 

Emma’s father appeared at the bottom of the dimly-lit staircase and Emma jumped back from Killian as if he were on fire. If the king didn’t look like he was going to kill Killian before, he certainly did now, hand on the handle of his sword and jaw set in rage. 

“Those royal lips really _do_ taste better, I must say, king, well done on this lass of yours!” Killian put the pirate facade back on, so Emma didn’t get into any trouble for being down here and opening Killian’s cell. He’d just say he tricked her into doing it, considering how little the king thinks of him already. Killian could feel the look of confusion Emma was shooting him but he didn’t turn to meet her eye, it would give them away. 

“I’m not usually a fan of public executions, but I’m really going to enjoy seeing you hanged in the morning,” the king spoke as if he forgot Emma was even in the room and his voice had reverted back to cold and angry as it was before. 

“Dad!”

“Emma you shouldn’t be down here,” his voice raised at her but he didn’t turn his head towards her when he spoke, he was focused on Killian still as he slammed his cell door back shut and locked it. The click of the keys ensuring his place behind bars sent a shiver of cold through him, sealing his fate. 

“Dad, you’re not really going to hang him. He hasn’t done anything wrong!” Emma tried to reason with him, though she realized she didn’t actually know what he was locked up for. She turned to silently ask Killian why he was locked up but he just shrugged and shook his head slightly. 

“He kissed you!” her father said it like it was mass murder. 

“And that’s punishable by death?” her hands were on her hips, squaring off with her father, clearly ready to battle this out. Killian was almost shocked that after running from him, she would stand up for him to her father. She was choosing _Killian_ over her family. Killian wondered what changed, maybe coming home made her realize her mistake. She always said she’d get him pardoned, but at this rate, he didn’t see any way her father would let him live. 

“You threw a party tonight looking for my suitor, for the father of the child I’m bearing,” Emma made these statements like questions to her father to assure this was the true purpose of the ball tonight, the reason she was in this ridiculous pink ballgown. Killian saw her father nod cautiously, not sure what this was leading to, “Right, then who do you think I’m kissing?” 

Her father looked dumbfounded as his jaw fell open and his hand slipped from the hilt of his sword and raised to point at Killian in the cell. 

“ _Him_?!” the king seemed to be feeling all too many emotions at once, that, if he were able to say anything else, it would probably be the shocked ‘him’ over and over again until he was able to actually digest that information. “He’s a pirate and a drunk, Emma, how…?” 

Emma had moved closer to the cell so her hand was entwined with Killian’s through the bars, gripping it vigorously as if holding on to him was going to prevent him from getting hurt further but also in assurance that she would clear his name. 

“Do you want to know _why_ he’s a pirate, Dad? It’s because he found out his king wanted to implement a deadly plant he was sent to find as a weapon against his enemies, a plant that killed his brother and captain in the process, and he didn’t want to serve a king who would do that,” Emma began what seemed like was going to be a very long rant to her father with the facts about Killian Jones, and the accusing finger pointed at Killian began to drop. 

“Except that it wasn’t even the king who sent him to this other realm for the poisonous plant, it was another naval captain who wanted to eliminate the competition for the higher ranks. You’ve been looking for the person murdering high-ranked officers and royalty? It’s probably Captain Harold Delaney.” 

Killian dropped Emma’s hand in surprise and looked at her through the bars as she took a breath between statements. She glanced back at him with soft, apologetic eyes, taking his hand gently once more and giving it a light squeeze before continuing. This wasn’t the way she wanted to reveal who Liam’s true murderer was. 

“I can’t say why you think he’s a drunk, but he’s probably been drinking more since I left him without saying goodbye, because I was pregnant and wanted to see my family and be in a safer place than a pirate ship, but if you’re going to act this way towards the man I love and the father of my child, then I will gladly go back to living on his ship, because I was happy there, I was at _home_ there,” Emma was running out of breath so she inhaled deeply for a moment, stopping to shoot a shy smile at Killian after such a declaration of her feelings towards him and he squeezed her hand, pulling her closer through the bars so their shoulders were touching. She surprised herself with all that she said, finally saying everything she had been thinking about and holding in. Killian felt like he should say something, he wanted to say how much he loved her back, how happy he was with her living on his ship with him, how even the thought of her makes him smile, but all he could do was give a bashful grin and squeeze her hand while her father tried to process all the information just given to him. 

After an uncomfortably long time, Emma snatched the keys out of her father’s hands and freed Killian once again, leading him upstairs while her father continued to stand there in stunned silence. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue posted tomorrowish!


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sort of self-explanatory - tying up loose ends, where they are now, etc etc

\-- Epilogue --

When King ‘Charming’ David finally managed to pick his jaw up off the floor and respond to everything Emma revealed to him, Snow had already started planning Emma and Killian’s wedding. It was a small, private affair that took place by the summer palace’s private lake. The dock on the lake doubled as an aisle for Emma to walk down with her father. Snow was Emma’s maid of honor. There was a point at the end of the ceremony after kissing the bride that Killian whispered to Emma to look out on the lake. A family of swans had joined them by the dock, silently celebrating the occasion with them. Killian claims he had nothing to do with this and it was merely a happy coincidence. 

Captain Harold Delaney was arrested for the murder of multiple prominent figures in the realm and publicly hanged, so the kingdom to assure the kingdom their safety had been restored. David ‘accidentally’ left the dungeon keys with Killian the night before Delaney’s execution, allowing Killian the chance to sort out some ‘details’ about Delaney’s crimes. Killian sleeps much better now that the man who murdered his brother got what he truly deserved. 

Killian’s name was cleared and his crimes of piracy excused. Killian gave up the sailor’s life to start building boats for the Navy, so he could always come home to his family at the end of the day.  _The Jewel of the Realm_  was reissued under its new name,  _The Jolly Roger_ , for Killian to take trips with Emma and the kids whenever they pleased. Though initially prickly towards his son-in-law, David managed to procure a house for his daughter and her husband near the winter palace that sat on the river out to sea. They had their own private docks where Killian kept  _The Jolly Roger_. Every now and then the crew would surprise him by anchoring there for a big family dinner. Once a month, Killian would bartend at the village’s port to catch up with his old crew.

Their home just close enough to home and safety of the royal guard while just being far enough away from the parents for Emma’s comfort. Once the first grandchild, Muriel, was born, Snow and David started making more frequent trips to the winter palace, but it wasn’t until Liam was born that they made a permanent move. Snow claimed it was because she’s always preferred the winter palace, but everyone knew it was to be close to the grandchildren. Who could blame her? 

Emma gave up her spot in line to rule the kingdom to her brother Prince Neal, so she could continue in helping her father catch wanted men in the realm. While some people still call her Princess Emma, she insists on being referred to as Mrs. Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to everyone who stuck with this story all this time, through slow updates and all the angst and continuing to support me and show love for the story. I really appreciate it!!!!!! More CS stuffs to come in the future!

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews, comments, feedback all welcome! Thank you for reading!


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